The longest relationship I’ve ever had lasted three-months-and-three-weeks.

I’m the always-single girl. The random non-committal girl that nobody likes to talk about because I can’t relate to the ‘serious’ relationship chats. It even makes some of my long-term relationship friends feel uncomfortable; like I’m that weird smell that creeps up in the back of the 501 streetcar during rush hour , or the shiver felt when the doors quickly open by the ScotiaBank ATM inside of the Eaton’s Center. It makes them feel uncomfortable because they can’t really explain it, and I can’t either.

It’s not that I’m too picky or that I love being single or that I was raised by two non-committal nymphomaniacs in the back of Urban Outfitters. I’ve always wanted a long-term relationship, but it hasn’t found me yet. Maybe, I haven’t found it yet. Either way, I’ve looked everywhere and it just hasn’t happened.

If you’re like me, and you haven’t had a relationship that’s lasted more than 6 months, then you’ll relate to this. Your friends have probably told you you’re too picky. Or perhaps you’re too shy. My mom asks me every other day why I’m still single – “Mom, I’m Asexual. GET OVER IT.” My favourite piece of advice is when someone tells me that I should just stop looking all together, because that’s how they found their boyfriend – after she “gave up trying”. That’s a fantastic idea! I’ll stop trying all together then. I’ll sleep in and miss work, fart in elevators and grow out my unibrow like I’m Frida Kahlo in a ratchet Halloween house party. You see that – I’m “giving up”. Come and get me future husband! I don’t care about aesthetics, or beauty, or social responsibilities – I’m cool like that!

And then there are the friends who tell you that you should be more patient. Should I tattoo that on my wrist in cursive while I’m at it? Okay, fine, I’ll be more patient. But it’s been 23 years and I’m still waiting. And I bet I’m more patient than you. While I’m waiting, I guess I’ll watch some Netflix and wake up in three years when I’m finished watching all 70 seasons of Iron Chef.

Then there is the classic fairy-tale ending my friend’s often tell me about. One day, in the distant bike-lane T.O. future, I’ll meet my long-term boyfriend serendipitously, like in the movies. Maybe we’ll touch hands in the 3 a.m. Poutini’s line up after a night at the Dog and Bear. Or perhaps I’ll drop my “I’m Not That Kind of Girl” book on the Dundas West and Dufferin, and my long-term future boyfriend will fall from a second-storey vintage shop and pick it up for me.

“Is this yours?” he’ll thoughtfully ask.

“Let’s make long-term fairytale S&M love,” I’ll reply.

“Ditto,” he’ll say.

The END.

But the worst piece of advice by far is this: That internal reasoning you spew to yourself at the end of the day, trying to understand why on earth you haven’t locked down a relationship with a guy for longer than a few months. I’m annoying. I’m fugly. I have too many freckles. Blah, blah, blah. It’s confusing. And I can’t help but think I’m the only girl in the entire world that is mentally constipated about dating. Why is it so hard for some people? I date, I fuck, I love, I crush (hard), and then for some reason – it doesn’t last. Maybe it’s because I like to chase older men, because they’re sophisticated and read plenty of books. Maybe that’s where I went wrong? Nope, don’t think that’s it either. For the record, older men are my vagina’s life blood. They know what to do and I’ve never felt as wholesome after a night with a man who knows how to fuck me for longer than a minute. But that’s another story.

When I first started writing this, it was supposed to be about giving up dating. I was going to tell everyone about how liberating it feels not to shave my legs and that I’m throwing in the dating towel (do people ever say that?). I was even going to brag about how I was planning a six month deep sleep hibernation with coconut oil and my heating pad. But now that I’ve written about all the reasons I’ve been told I’m single – I feel oddly liberated. Re-reading the advice people have told me, it seems pretty silly actually. So even though I’ve never had a long-term relationship, so be it. I can accept it. I’ll keep shaving my legs and wear my favourite red lipstick, because I love that stuff. I’ll keep on chasing men and whether they like me enough to stay with me for longer than three months and three weeks; well, that’s their problem isn’t it?