Like most people of our generation, I've been bouncing from one relationship to the next breakup the majority of my dating life. These are splattered with gaps of singledom in between, periods of heavy drinking, and those advertisements of LOOK HOW MUCH FUN I'M HAVING! I think I've finally realized is that I just don't get it. I don't get the dating game, the motives, the rules, or the language.

Don't get me wrong - I've had meaningful relationships. Those do-or-die holy-shit-this-is-fucking-IT sort of things. I keep finding myself single again though, and now consider myself something of a scientist in the ongoing, "let's see how fast this can go wrong” experiment.

Not long ago, hung-over as holy hell, I wondered to myself where and why it all went wrong. Not where it went wrong with one particular person, but where it actually all went wrong, way down the line. Perhaps it's that I chain smoke and get embarrassingly drunk on a fairly regular basis? Perhaps it's that I seem to lack any sort of filter between my brain and my mouth, and horribly inappropriate things become audible? I find myself talking in great detail about my cat, my general distrust in all humanity, and the dead things I collect in jars at home. The words just fall out of my mouth, and my brain screams, “Stop talking about your cat!” but the words just keep coming. Or maybe I just pick the wrong fellas. I've found myself on dates with people with pseudonyms and nicknames such as "Nasty", "Rotten" and -- my personal favorite -- "Mad Dog".

Noticing a pattern here? And yeah – they all lived up to their names.

There is this rumor, this urban legend if you will, of the "One". Is this One a Matrix character programmed and designed specifically for you, while wearing cool coats the whole time? Or is this One that guy in the bar that spilled his drink all over my shirt and then leered at me in wet clothing? Maybe I should have given him a shot. I mean, after all, at least I had his attention for the moment.

Another legend is the proverbial "nice guy". Have any of you ever met this creature? I sure haven’t. I’ve met the ones that do the nice guy act – holding doors open, picking up the tab, not slipping you a date-rape drug... but deep down inside there’s something horribly awry. There was one that went so far as to try to spoon me the food off my dinner plate. Sorry buddy, but I’ve got that utensil thing down. I found it rather insulting, really. So where does this nice guy live and lurk? And how do you spot it, tag it, and hunt it down?

Recently, I read my very first self-help book. I purchased this book after going out with someone a few times, and actually enjoying myself, but my phone never rang again. Not even a courtesy email. Manners are totally out this season. Or are they? Is it just a misinterpretation on my part? I have a small army of close male friends that lend a hand, act as translators since apparently I do not speak Boy, and they say the same thing that the book said, "Jesus Christ, lady, you could do SO much better." This book I picked up, and my buddies, have all simultaneously inflated my ego to grandiose proportions and told me that I am fucking doomed to be alone the rest of my life.

There are plenty of single people out there. Even just now, in bed in my studio apartment, I hear a female neighbor through the walls coming home talking on her cell phone to someone. I clearly heard the slightly slurred words of, "Once again, I'm alone. Gotta love my life." I knew it couldn't just be me.

There are two key elements to a successful relationship: the desire to touch someone's bathing suit area, and the lack of desire to plot an elaborate execution of their disposal. Unfortunately for most of us, these ingredients rarely go hand in hand, and if they do, it's usually fleeting.

Maybe all any of us is looking for is a true love, or maybe a truly fatalist love. Cause really, what are our other options?