All the Single Ladies

Being single in a city like DC, can be both frustrating and liberating. There comes a time in every girl's life (especially when that "girl" is a twenty-something woman) when your friends start to pair off into couples that it makes you wonder when your card is going to be picked. It can be liberating to have the freedom to have spontaneous adventures, meet new people, and feel like it's the first day of  summer camp all over again, but it can also feel a tiny bit lonely. Friends can definitely fill the void, but sometimes you just want someone (other than your best friend) to have inside jokes with and fight over the remote with. Does that sound a bit boring? Well, sure, but there's something to be said for meeting a person that you want to have around while you do nothing. Trust me, I've met/dated a lot of people that I'd rather be alone doing nothing than hanging out with them doing something.

While on the way to meeting Mr. Right, Mr. Big, or Mr. Happily Ever After, there will undoubtedly be some missteps, or mess-ups while on the dating train. Before becoming attached to a significant other, the new men (or women) in our lives tend to have a moniker that we refer to them as when chatting with friends. I've definitely been guilty of this with nicknames like "Ultimate Ginger", but hadn't really thought anything of it, until reading this article in the Atlantic.

Do I come up with nicknames for guys in order to keep them at arm's length? Possibly. Though, in my personal case, I think coming up with an identifier, rather than using their full name keeps the person memorable for story time. It's also easier to remember the identifier, such as Bearded Limpy, BL for short (I dare you to guess how I came up with that name), rather than a normal name like John. It helps those around me to keep track of who I'm talking about, and saves time on the mind jogging--You know, John, my coworker, that has that weird limp...he's sort of odd, etc. In this day and age, when "ghosting" ( a term that the article uses for what one might call "the disappearing act") is all too prevalent among my generation, it makes little sense to get your friends accustomed to "John" for three weeks, only for them to ask, "Where'd he go?" The obvious answer being that he was kidnapped by aliens and hadn't figured out a way to call for help MUCH LESS confirm happy hour plans. Instead, saying that your text to Bearded Limpy about getting together hadn't been returned in an entire TWENTY-FOUR HOURS (Gasp! No judgment on the time frame, since I've definitely had the same freak out if it's been 30 minutes, but I digress), injects a certain amount of humor and softens the blow of rejection. And isn't that the whole point? To make the realization that this isn't "The One" and that the vision of what your lives would be like together (2 kids, a chocolate lab, and a house in the city that somehow has a backyard, natch) isn't going to happen, a little easier to swallow?


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