Happy belated birthday to me! That’s right — I’m the big 2-6, meaning I’m now paying unreasonable amounts of money for a basic insurance plan that doesn’t even cover my allergy pill prescription, but hey! I’m officially in my “Mid-Late 20s.” Why is this important, you ask? Because I can now designate that I am in my “Mid-Late 20s” on my shiny new dating profile!
Yes, I have crossed over to the dark side again and subscribed to Match.com in hopes of finding my Prince Charming. Of all the dating sites, I trust Match the most; because it’s a paid service, people are (mostly) looking for relationships and not hookups and quick flings. I was a little hesitant to join the site again, since in the past it’s given me nothing but stress and self-esteem issues, but so far I’m off to a good start.
The first time I signed up for a Match profile was about six months after my first relationship ended. I was so eager to jump back into a relationship and find that special someone who would make me and my world complete. I scrutinized over every single word I wrote, took every unanswered email as a crushing rejection, and decided that everyone I spoke to on the site would be the next great love of my life. If I knew then what I know now, I would petition for dating sites to be inaccessible to anyone under the age of 25. I wasn’t ready to join the world of “20-something year-old professional dating” because I wasn’t a 20-something year-old professional at the time. I’m still not a professional by employment standards!
But I have a different outlook this time. There are a ton of guys searching for their next boyfriend out there, and each of them probably has a similar experience to what I had when I was younger. Of the three people I’ve sent feelers to (emails, you perverts), one has replied and the conversation hasn’t progressed past our mutual love of Joss Whedon. And you know what? I’m cool with that.
So many people believe in “The One” – that one great love that will eclipse all others and bring you eternal bliss. Well, I’m going to say that everyone gets to have more than one “The One” in a lifetime. If we let ourselves think that the dude that dumped us after six months for some blonde bimbo from West Hollywood (I’m exaggerating, that never actually happened to me) was the great love of our lives, we’re going to have a pretty sad existence in the years to come. So I’m happy with trading Joss Whedon trivia with a nice guy for now. Will it turn into more? Does it really matter if it doesn’t?
I think I’m going to like being 26.