Turns out, getting knocked up by a rich guy in Orange County is WAY more challenging than I’d anticipated. Not in sense that actual effort is required, but simply because the outcome is out of my control.

Just finding someone who makes it to a second date–even to a first date–is harder than dieting in a candy store. Hell, it’s harder than side-planking, especially while dieting, on a moving Pilates reformer in a candy store. And what’s the point of either of those, if never to find true love? If years of beauty investments, borderline orthorexia, and fitness fanaticism never helped me find my special someone, then what was the point in trying so hard to attract a mate?

Should’ve donut’d it up, and immersed myself in a D&D community instead.

Yet here I am. My biggest challenge is finding quality single men who are interested in an actual relationship. If I were simply a gold-digger, this would be much easier: it’s not hard to find clout clowns with cash. But I want real love (with someone who is financially-established).

In addition to kindness, vulnerability and authenticity rank high on my criteria list. These traits are now rarer than ever, thanks to AI and the use of ChatGPT. People are so concerned with how they’re perceived that they’d rather constantly censor themselves than have a genuine heart-to-heart conversation. There’s a continual need to impress rather than to express, which I find thoroughly unimpressive.

This rings exceptionally true with dating apps.

If I see one more dating profile that lists “clean sheets and the smell of coffee” in response to the “Simple Pleasures” prompt, or refers to how Rose could have saved Jack on the Titantic, I’m–

I don’t even know what I’m going to do yet, but it will be very dark and dramatic. Definitely drastic.

I feel like I’m playing a game in which no one truly wins. It’s a struggle to find men who actually want to go out on an actual, in-person date. Many seem determined to just message back-and-forth for the entirety of eternity, while my maternal clock ticks away.

I always thought that having children would be a choice I’d figure out with my significant other…because I assumed that by the time I was 30, or even 35, I’d have met my special someone. I never imagined that I would still be single at my age.

Thankfully, my life is still shockingly alright. Awesome, even. I’m relatively happy. I have no problem prioritizing career over family at this point, which seems to be my only option. I just turned 36, and am probably infertile. Blehh.

At least love and puppies are still attainable.

My current plan is to pivot away from the dating apps, since they have a low barrier to entry. Any JoeSchmo can sign up.

I’m now utilizing different ways to meet people…ways that have a higher barrier point of entry, and simultaneously help me socialize with a positive community while engaging in activities that increase my overall well-being.

So I’ve started attending early morning bootcamp style fitness classes–more “traditional” strength training, not just Pilates–and partner dance classes. Coffee shops and the beach are my new go-to’s for writing and reading. Running clubs are not off the table, although my cardio ability is currently questionable.

I wish more single OC men attended puppy yoga classes, but alack.

I’m still brainstorming other “high barrier to entry” activities. Even time seems to be relevant…as much as I hate waking up at the ass-crack-of-dawn, sleep deprivation seems like another barrier I have yet not explored. So if it takes suffering 5AM gym torture sessions to meet melt-worthy men: put me in, Coach.

I would love to find love, but at this point, I’ll settle for doing the things that I love…and hopefully one day, I’ll be doing The One that I love.