You’ve already read my whole rant about that 25 Random Things post that someone started. And once again, I got seduced by another “Note.” Someone posted a list of 239 movies and if you have seen at least 85 of them you have no life. Being the movie junkie I am, I started marking off all the movies I’ve seen on the list. I couldn’t stop. I was mesmerized by this list. Before I knew it, I took 10 minutes out of my life to post this on my FB page; telling everyone that I had no life because I watched 159 of the movies featured on the list.

Then, one of my friends posted another note titled, “Books the BBC doesn’t think we have read” – I am really tempted to sort through the list and let people know that I do, in fact, know how to read.

Then, I saw a note asking people to list all the pregnant people they know. Once again, I must say that I am really happy for all the pregnant people I know (especially my siste) but I felt that I needed to speak on behalf of all of my cynical single (cyngle, if you will) brethren.

I am at that age where everyone around me is coupled, getting married, has or is about to have kids. Although I am happy for all of these couples, I can’t help but turn the volume up on my single dial and have a little bitchfest.

As a part of this dying breed, it’s good to have fellow cyngles around you. My main cyngle gal, Janet, lives on the opposite coast and we have long conversations about dating, single angst and other ‘woe is me’ topics that infect the lives of late twenty- and early thirtysomethings.

The other night, Janet and I were having one of our late night cyngle phone conferences and we came to the realization that she and I, along with three or four others are the only single people in our crew. This led her to believe that we missed some sort of “Coupling Conference” that all our friends went to. As a result, we have remained single all these years while our friends procreate and walk hand-in-hand in relationship bliss.

That said, I want to start a new note on FB. I want to start a list of 1.) People who are NOT pregnant. and 2.) The most gag-worthy moments that happened when you were around a couple.

Until then, can you please keep me informed of any “Couple Conferences” that are slated for the near future? I would love to attend one.

There’s something about Sunday night that really makes you want to kill yourself. And that creepy ’60 Minutes’ watch that sounds like your whole life ticking away.

For me, I like to stretch out my Sunday nights as much as possible without thinking of the consequences of having only 3 to 4 hours of sleep. It’s like the longer I stay up, the more I will be able to tolerate Monday.

Yeah, it doesn’t make sense to me either.

So as I sit here flipping between three channels on TV, I realize that there are a lot of good edited-for-TV movies on tonight. I am catching bits and pieces of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, The 40-year-old Virgin and Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith as I try to cure my cinematic indecisiveness.

Actually, I am pondering over the concept of dating. I have come to the conclusion that I use my career as an excuse in why I am not in a relationship. Translation: I am retarded when it comes to dating.

All the dates I have been on have ended abruptly. No phone call saying, “I don’t want to see you anymore.” No email saying, “Please don’t contact me anymore – you scare me. J/K. LOL. No for real, I don’t think we make a great match.” All I get is me trying to contact them trying to do any damage control I have made in order to ignite some sort of long-term relationship. On their end, I get silent rejection. I think all the guys I have dated have the assumption that I am smart enough to take their non-communication as a sign that they aren’t interested. I hate to burst their bubble, but I am not that smart – at least in dating.

This makes me think, “What is worse? Blatantly saying you’re not interested or putting a silencer on a rejection gun?”

Personally, I think saying you’re not interested via email or phone is the best bet. Even though both methods of rejection bruise one’s ego, at least you don’t have to constantly wait for a call that you will never receive. I want that instant gratification of, “You’re nice, but I just don’t like you in that way. Please never call me again. I don’t even want to be friends.”

Is it that hard?

Actually, it is. People tend to handle other’s feelings with kid gloves. I do that when I am rejecting less-than-desirable suitors on Match.com. But every time I do that, I wonder if I am doing something to effect the metaphysical universe of dating karma? Or is the dating world just cruel and random?

Every time I try to snag a date, I always spazz about it. I obsess and obsess about what the other person is thinking: Is he interested? Does he think I’m psycho? Why isn’t he calling? The latter is the one I question the most. I do this so that I can prepare for every possible situation. I call my friends and vomit my spazz all over their ears. And God bless them, they take it and say, “It’s going to be okay.” But I really think they want to say, “Shut the fuck up Dino and stop acting like a fag version of Eeyore.” But when (and if) something happens, all of that gets thrown out the window and then things fall apart in a way that I didn’t account for in my master plan.

Based on all you have read, I am sure you can tell by now, I am a slight control freak.

Unfortunately, I cannot control the world. I just have to continue my spazzing until I can.