Observations

Last night at a friend’s leaving-do (aka going away party), I came to two rather sobering relevations:

1. If I want to spot the single (and or gay) men in a crowd at a “hip” party in London, just look for T-shirts. My (married/attached) friends and I quickly realised that all the men who were attired in button-down shirts were taken (aka “domesticated”).

2. As I approach my 35th birthday, I realise my days of passing off being single as a “desire for freedom” or “a choice as I focus on my career” are numbered. Very shortly, my singlehood will quickly become one more of the universe’s little jokes.

All that being said, I’m still not willing to settle for what passes for eligble men in London today. I’ve met some amazing people through my dating forays, but I’ve also met some complete freaking weiiiiirrrrrdos who make me seriously question the integrity of the global gene pool. And so I’d rather be rolling solo at home, watching Nikita while painting my toenails than out on a date with someone with whom I could never imaging having an 8th grade make-out session. For example.

Action plan? Find a fun-loving sultan and/or son-of-sultan whilst in Turkey next week.

Perfectly reasonable approach. :P

Federman out.