I ve reached the age of diamond rings and sonograms.

The men and women around me have begun to permanently pair and procreate. Meanwhile, I m just trying to find a guy who isn t a sleaze. One who is also preferably employed, respectful, selfaware, confident, and worth my time. Because I am only at the cusp of this pairingprocreating trend, most men my age are the opposite. They are between jobs, or working pay-the-bills-and-bar-tabs jobs. They are interested in little more than a vagina with a pretty face (negotiable after 3 or more drinks). They have no idea who they are, no idea what they want, and are, therefore, wholly not worth any of my time. In the past I have folded to such creatures because they can be rather fun, and boy do they know how to sell themselves, but today, my romantic life has become a wasteland. If I were desperate (which I am not), I would toy with such creatures for sport, if for no other reason than to prove how predictable they all are. I am, however, not interested in such games. It pains me to admit it, but I want to be one of those paired-up people. I don t want the ring, and I CERTAINLY don t want the procreation, but I would like a pair a companion to make fun of me when I start walking on our runs, to share jokes and dishes with, to marvel at my newest yogic accomplishments, to hold as we sleep, and to wake up to with a kiss. Someone to share a pot of tea with, to spend lazy days in bed with, to sweat with in the heat of scratch-your-back-good sex. I have learned, and am continuing to learn, the value of being on my own. For the first time in my life I enjoy going out alone, pride myself in my personal celibacy, and am not pandering to petty play-things. But there are always those little moments that would best be shared in love. One of my first lessons in valuing alone time was walking Skyline Park in New York City. It was my first time in the city; I had invited myself to stay with an ex-boyfriend-once-removed for the weekend. He was staying in the city for a month on business for free, and I capitalized on his work perks. His work required his time that weekend, so I was left to explore on my own. One of my first solo trips was this park. It was an abandoned railroad turned urban green space. It was modern, full of newly planted wildflowers and recycled wood. The constant drizzle of the day made it cold and quiet. I felt the magnitude of my solitude in a way that was more comfortable than it was disquieting. I smiled as I passed families and friends engaged in conversation. My own internal conversation had followed the tracks to another side of town. Autopilot and walking meditation were a warm blanket