Plus one? I think not.

I went to a wedding this weekend. It was quaint and small and the couple really seem to love each other. This got me thinking. How many married couples do I know? A lot. How many single thirty-somethings do I know? Answer: not many. I am one of a dying breed.

Hi. My name is Lindsay and I am a single thirty-something.

I used to be a plus one. Or used to have a plus one. And it was great on holidays. There was automatic gift-giving, weekend plans, and someone to kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve. But then I realized that the person I was supposed to be kissing at midnight was in the other room talking to other people. My plus-one was standing me up. My holiday rules were being broken. And so I 86ed my plus one. He is long gone.

My new life had begun. I wasn't weighed down on holidays anymore. I got to do what I wanted and didn't have to consult with anyone to plan my weekends. I got to take trips with friends. Life was great. Until New Year's Eve came around again. Midnight struck and I was surrounded by couples kissing. Yuck. The only thing worse than not having someone to kiss is being surrounded by a flat out French-kiss marathon. Watching people suck face sucks. Literally.

It was time. Online dating, here I come.

Candidate Number One. Recent law school grad. Intelligent. Great online conversations. Seemed like a good fit. We decided to meet. I pulled into the planned restaurant parking lot. Boy was I nervous. We recognized each other from our pictures. We had a slow start. He must have been nervous too. Things picked up though and I was trying, really trying to force myself to like him. I somehow got up the guts to ask him to head over to a bar for an after dinner drink. This is when it got weird. He asked how far away it was, I assured him it was less than three blocks. He asked if it was near a bus stop. HUH?? Come to find out, Candidate Number One has no car. Candidate Number One arrived to our date site after 1.5 hours of maneuvering three bus transfers from his apartment 20 miles away. This is not a Yankee city people. There is no T, no MTA down here in the South. Candidate Number One needed a ride to the bar, and then back to his apartment because he missed the last bus. Candidate Number One did not pass go to date number two.

Candidate Number Two. I met him while out with friends one night. He seemed very nice. He was talkative and didn't chat up with the usual, "What do you do?" We talked on the phone and decided to go out. I was to meet him at his apartment and he would drive us from there. I arrived and knocked on his door. He opened it, said hello, told his roommate goodbye, and off we went. I pretended not to be offended at having not been introduced to his roommate. We get to his SUV. He opens his door, unlocks mine, and scoops over approximately twenty empty cigarette cartons from the passenger seat onto the floorboard. "Sorry about that," he said. Hope he didn't mind that I had to crush his twenty-odd cigarette cartons when I pulled my feet into the car. We get to the restaurant. I knew something was wrong when I noticed he was having his entire conversation with my chest. If he's looking at my chest all night, where am I supposed to rest my eyes? I settled on the parking lot. Luckily we were seated near a window. When dinner was finally over we hit up the movie theater. We drove down to what is affectionately known as the "gayborhood" in my city. I felt safe. That is until my date began telling gay jokes while standing in line. We were getting looks. After my repeated attempts to change the subject, we finally started talking about my hated date staple. The "so-what-do-you-dos?" Why had I ever criticized it? At least it was here when I needed a quickie convo. We sat down and small talked until the movie began. The guy was a genius. As soon as the lights dimmed his arm was around me. What the hell? At least the gay jokes had stopped. I can stomach two hours of his heinous BO if it means no more gay jokes. I have to say he was persistent though. After I dodged his kiss attempt at the end of the night, he waited two beats before going in for a second try. It also took him calling twice with no answer and no call back before he got the picture. Candidate Number Two had not made the cut either.

Candidate Number Three. I met him while out with friends also. He was with two other guys. I knew I was giving someone my number that night and he was the first to ask for it. He got it. We talked. We decided to meet out. We both brought friends. It wasn't too bad. Except that I had about ZERO attraction to him. But it's his inner beauty that counts, right? Besides my friend and me, there was a token girl in the group. She sized me up good. I was, after all, in her territory. Needless to say, we did not become fast friends. The gang wanted to head over to another bar. Fine by me, it was closer to home anyway. Candidate Number Three asked if he could ride with me. No prob. On the ride over I find out one of many, many disturbing things. Number one- the guy he told me was his brother wasn't actually his brother. Strike one- lying. Number two- his "ride over" was going to be a reoccurring event seeing as he had a suspended driver's license. Guess what. Candidate Number Three had not one, but TWO recent DUIs. He wouldn't be allowed to drive for another six months. By the way he was talking I think he figured he had found his new taxi system. Me. Strike two- convicted felon. Number Three- the guy began having entire conversations with his real brother in another language with me sitting right there. What was I supposed to do? My eyes eventually glazed over and I fantasized about how I might meet the never-before-met Candidate Number Four. Strike three- I don't even know what to call the language barrier thing. But it counts as a strike. Good thing Candidate Number Three was a bright one. He didn't even bother calling me again.

There have been others. Some better. Some worse. But none have made it to a holiday. Is it clear why I am a single thirty-something? Do you see what I am dealing with here? I am surrounded by friends who are the people who never go without a girl/boyfriend. I am the black sheep. But please. Obviously I am not just being picky. Can you blame me for holding out?

SWF looking for a SM. Must wear deodorant daily, have own source of transportation, and not be a convicted felon. Steady job required.