Remember that you should never say the words below to a single twentysomething.

Part 1


But you're so awesome!

I know, that's totally how it works, right? Because only the most awesome thoroughbred unicorn-girls end up in relationships, whereas all single women have some kind of obvious mental or physical affliction that prevents penises from wanting to enter them regularly. Like a hunchback, or a 3rd grade reading acuity, or a shriveled-up little shoulder-head from that Mike's Hard Lemonade commercial.


You're only single because you're too picky.

The last person who asked me out was a man who runs down 37th Street and 2nd Avenue in a chicken suit, stops in front of Forever 21, clucks, and runs away. But you're right. Going out for tapas and then having an empty sexual encounter with literally anybody who asks me, even someone whose presence on the block may have been notified to us via Megan's Law, is better than being sans boyfriend.


You pick the wrong guys.

This has been obvious to me since my nerdier, chubbier 11th grade self asked the hottest boy at school to the prom over AIM. (His answer? A rather graceful "haha can't.") In conclusion, derp derp derp derp derp.


You're afraid of intimacy.

Thank you, Oprah's Next Chapter.


Have you tried online dating?

Have you tried scoring every name in the Yellow Pages to the tune of Beethoven's Fifth? Why not? Because it has consistently seemed like a pointless and time-wasting endeavor for you? See above.


It'll only happen when you stop looking.

Oh, okay. I'll just stop looking. I'll close my eyes really tight, and assume that the chances of A) Smacking into my future husband on Madison Avenue 5 minutes after my eyes are closed versus B) Keeping my eyes closed until I open them and look in the mirror and am THE ACTUAL CRYPT KEEPER, with shingles medication in my bathroom and cobwebs in my labia majora, are basically 50/50.

Dude, the reason you're not single is because you have never stopped looking. If you had not spent every second of college hunting down committed relationships like that mustachioed game-hunter in Jumanji, you wouldn't have ended up with the mouth-breathing, Ari-Gold-from-Entourage-quoting prize with whom you share 4 minutes of connubial bliss with every night.

BRB gotta go keep the crypt.


You're so lucky, I wish I were single!

Then dump the guy you're clearly not into, because you just said that.


You just have to get out there more!

I am so out there that I am carrying a spare pair of underwear and one of those finger-toothbrush things in my purse right now. Don't even.


What happened to [whatever freak I was sleeping with last time I spoke to you]?

We got married and moved to Schenectady and now I am pregnant, with a rainbow. What do you think happened?


You need to love yourself first.

It's okay if I hate you, though, right? K great.


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