"But you're pretty! Why are you still single?!"

I am 27. When I was 25 I became single for pretty much the first time in my adult life. I had boyfriends/a fiancé/husband since I was 18 with "single" gaps lasting 2-3 months, and another lasting 11 days. Entering the dating world as an adult is not an easy thing. At first I loved it. I'm not terrible looking, I'm pretty friendly, and I shower at least once a day. It wasn't difficult to get some confidence-boosting, male attention. At home, I was on my own and didn't have to worry about acting a certain way to impress a guy all the time. Now that it's been almost 2 years (and my biological clock is turning into a time bomb) I have poked around at some online dating sites and have been open to being set up by friends, chatting at a bar, or any of the ways that one would go about starting a courtship that could lead to the overall goals of 1. Having a non-empty uterus and 2. Having someone in the house tall enough to reach the damn spiders who have learned that they can live if they can get higher than the door frames.

I have been on dozens of TERRIBLE dates, and have messaged back and forth with probably hundreds of guys who 1. Have no business being anywhere near my breathing space, let alone my uterus, and 2. Make the spiders look like loving, adoptable companions.
I get a few messages a day on the dating site apps. Most of these are the standard "Hey! You are really pretty!"..."I would love to take you out and get to know you sometime"..."hey gurl, ur pics are beautiful and u have an awesome profile. Hit me up." (Liars! They did NOT read my profile because I specifically state that I will not write back to you if you do not spell out your words.) Once these guys get through my very long process of harassment and being completely  picked apart, and they still are interested in talking to me, I usually get asked "How/why are you still single?!" Usually I tell them that I am just picky and I haven't found the right guy. But I realized that is only partially true. The reality is that I have become accustomed to living on my own, acquiring my own habits for which I do not judge myself, have built myself a "must-haves" checklist, and found that I will probably end up turning 40 and just adopting a kid on my own, because I scare away most "normal" guys. Don't believe me? Here are some examples:

I like food, but I don't like flavor. I could eat buttered noodles every day for the rest of my life and probably be happy about it. This doesn't seem like a big deal until you want to get take-out and have to exclude the places on my "uses too much flavor" list. (Yes, that is a real list that lives in my phone)

One day a male friend of mine and I went for a walk. He made sure that I was always on the inside of the sidewalk. Now when I walk anywhere with a guy and they DON'T do this, they are immediately cast off of my potential uterine-filling list. (Also a real list)

I like Disney movies, mostly Disney princesses A LOT. I have most of the costumes in my closet, most of my non-workday outfits have some type of princess theme, and I can answer almost any text in a Disney princess screen cap. I have turned down a date with an otherwise pretty decent appearing guy because he would not admit that Mulan was not a princess! 

Also, here's how I met a friend of mine...

Me: Hi! I'm Heather. 

Sean: I know. 

Me: How did you know that?!

Sean: You are dressed like a princess, I thought Joe was kidding about you. 

I do not handle being hungry well. Anyone who has ever been my partner at work knows that if I start to get cranky, get me a snack.

I am a very aggressive cuddler. Well, normal when I'm awake, but sleepy Heather is a different story. If you would like to escape the grasp of sleepy Heather's cuddles, I have been told that it takes an Indiana Jones style process of replacing yourself with several pillows.

I don't like to be tickled. Ever. If you tickle me, courtship time is over.

If we are doing partner workouts at crossfit, I like to pair with a girl wearing make up, because I can usually lift a little more than she can, and that makes me feel like a badass.

Sometimes if I'm lonely and binge shopping online I check the gift wrap option because I like getting presents.

I am really, really paranoid about bathroom habits. When I was married I used to look forward to days when he had a longer shift than I did so that I could poop in a house without anyone possibly even walking past the bathroom door. Now that I live alone, my life is freaking amazing.

I want to be snuggled, but not when I'm doing something important like eating my fries before all the cheese and gravy become coagulated. Back off.

When I decide on something I want to eat, and for some reason I can't get that thing, instant tears. Not because I'm bratty, but sometimes that might have been the only thing that didn't make me want to vomit. My body is kind of a wonderland.

I think pink camouflage is dumb. No one is having a Mary Kay party in the woods.

When I get stressed I like to pick things. Mostly the endless options of zits on my face, but I'm trying to quit that, so that means if any guy is shirtless and within arms' reach, I am going to pick at their gross back zits. Note: I am growing as a person and have learned to ask permission first.
(I mentioned this to my doctor and it seems this is an actual thing and it's call "excoriation", which is a fancy way of saying that I self-mutilate my face when life gets too rough. I told my mother and she said that I have done this since I was a toddler. So you know, I have always been super normal.)

If you ask me "what do you want to watch?" We are going to watch Dr Horrible's sing along blog and I am going to sing all of the songs. If you are not interested in learning the male vocals, I am not interested in your sperm.

I don't like when guys do something on a first date that they aren't planning on doing for the rest of my freakin life. Either open my car door forever, or don't do it at all. (Hint: if you do open my car door for me, while you walk around the front, I get to check out your butt, and you get to fart without me noticing. Win-win)

Babies = squishies. If you tell me that you have seen a squishy today, you had better be prepared to give me every detail of your interaction, or shut your stupid face.

I am very close with my girlfriends. We are comfortable with each other and have no problem greeting each other with a kiss. It's not for your pleasure, and no, if it went further, you couldn't watch.

I can't fall asleep happily when there is silence. I prefer the TV to be on, or at least the radio. Comedy stations are preferred because sometimes songs will spark a deeply hidden memory and set me off on a road straight to nightmare town.

Coffee makes me very, very, very happy. Sometimes I don't have to drink it, I just hold the cup close to me. It's like a security blanket kind of deal.

I think matching socks is a waste of my life. If you want your socks matched, that is your problem. If you match my socks, I apparently get upset. Stop wasting your life matching MY socks and/or trying to figure out why that upsets me.

I snore.

I have mostly male friends and we all work ridiculous shifts. If you are insecure about me texting any of them back at random hours of the day, you need to stop that and see yourself out.

If I say "I don't want shots" and you insist that I join you in doing them anyway, I promise you that you will have to deal with vomit and tears very soon.

I vomit when I'm stressed, tired, excited, too hungry, have been moved somewhere too quickly, have thought about something unpleasant, or have smelled something that I don't like. I wasn't kidding about this wonderland.

I get really grateful when given a present. I usually cry and give you a Miss America style speech about how I don't deserve it.

Speaking of that, I cry a whole bunch. Usually there is no warning. Just tears. Sometimes I am as surprised as you are. I have a very fine line of rage-to-sympathy for others. One can never be sure day to day where I'm going to fall on that line.

There are two types of people in this world. People who admit they pee in the shower, and liars.

I have adapted to my own level of clean and comfortable. If there is something sticky on a handle, I can adapt for weeks of touching the other parts of the handle instead of wiping it off.

Dirty clothes live in the washer, clean clothes live in the dryer. Easy.

If I say something affectionate and you say "thank you" instead of saying something affectionate in return, I have a really hard time accepting that. I admit, this one's on me. But I don't like it.

I don't mind being corrected if I am wrong, because I enjoy learning. But, if the point you are making is invalid and/or poorly presented, I'm all set and it is going to be quiet time.

Sometimes when I get sad I put on a giant puffy dress, pour a bottle sized glass of wine and watch Dirty Dancing until I feel happy again. Or until I have to go to work.

I like Death Cab for Cutie. However, that CD is too sad to live in the house. It lives in the car. If I am eating an egg roll in my driveway it's because the CD isn't over yet and I got hungry. Mind your own business, you nosey-ass bicyclists.

I usually only have to list a few of these before they either 1. Stop talking to me, or 2. Tell me they don't find any of that to me a potential problem and I decide that they are hiding a whole mess of their own personality that I don't need.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have some Netflix to watch in my princess dress while eating nachos and using my mismatched socks as napkins because the paper towels are in the basement, and the spiders have claimed those as their own.