What I want for the new year is a clean emotional break. I want to be done with the boys from my past and present, who don’t care about me more than once every fortnight. I want to resign myself to the fact that I will be a successful novelist and finally, after two years, complete this story about my sister. I want to be so busy that when I come home I’m not able to do much more than rush in a 45 minute work out and fall straight to bed at night.
I look around at my younger and older cousins, with their happy relationships and seemingly settled lives and I don’t understand it. For all intents and purposes, I’m a catch. I’m good humored, sociable, smart, loving, and many people argue, very attractive. Why is it that I am constantly single? Why is it exactly that nobody wants to call me their girlfriend?
Every year for my entire life I have begun the year alone. This year I don’t care. I may in fact stay home watching the Entourage marathon even though I swore to myself last year that I wouldn’t. I’m not that interested anymore in being in love or having someone else be in love with me. In the grand scheme of things, it’s just really not that important.
