Single Ladies Lament
I have betrother's guilt. It's like survivor's guilt but it strikes people who've partnered up and gotten hitched, leaving their equally deserving single friends with no one to spoon on frigid nights like these.
And it doesn't make sense. Why should I be blessed with a guy who turns me on and tolerates my considerable freakiness when so many of my hotter, younger, and far nicer friends are still solo-and-searching?
They tell me Santa Barbara is an especially tricky place to be single. It's hard to buy even the tiniest home on one income, and with students and retirees weighing down both ends of the population spectrum, the mid-range dating pool is small. "You don't really want your friend's sloppy seconds," adds a friend of mine, "which reduces your odds further."
The hunt seems to be harder for gals. I'm told our climate and seaside lifestyle leave lots of local fellas with a Peter Pan complex that doesn't look good on men over age 25. They're surfers or they're in a band. Or both.
"Did I tell you about the massage therapist who stood me up on a first date?" one of my girlfriends says. "He was playing beach volleyball and 'just lost all track of time and forgot.'"
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