Photo Credit: The Kidlet

Being single in my mid-thirties is weird. I’m sure I’ve talked about this before, but here we go again… bear with me.

I am 35 years old. I have virtually no dating experience.

Men my age are usually married or living in their parents’ basements — I know I know, not ALL men are like this, but a good majority of those I’ve come in contact with in the last year and a half are. Single men that are older than me are either divorced and in a hurry to jump back into a relationship (whoa buddy, hold your horses), a commitment-phobe, still living as if he were in his twenties or still living in his parent’s basement.

Because I look younger than my age (thank you sweet Baby Jesus for those Asian genes), I tend to attract younger men. And younger men usually want one thing…and that one thing isn’t a relationship. Which might be okay, since I’m not looking for a relationship yet, but I also hold myself to a higher standard than to be someone’s booty call.

So, I am in limbo. I love being single and I also hate it. And until I get myself out of this place of weirdness and decide what exactly I want at this point in my life (or some amazing Prince Charming sweeps me off my feet –whichever comes first), I suppose I will just stay “In The In Between.”

Ugh. If only I could put my age on hold…