by Kimberly M. Wetherell
BROOKLYN, NY –
Dating’s a bitch.
And this is the time of year when it’s easier to plop in front of the TV with a bottle of Veuve and watch a House marathon rather than suffer through, as the only single person* in the room, the forced jollity of holiday events. You start to miss the days when your mother pestered you about your dating life. Anymore, she just slaps on her Colorform smile, tells hyper-enthusiastic tales of others – who got married even older than you – and passes the twice-baked potatoes with a heavy sigh; resigned to the fact that the children born to your siblings are going to be the only grands she’s going to get.
(*For the record, no, my widowed grandmother does NOT count, thank you very much and besides, even she has a boyfriend, so suck it!)