Now that I've officially sworn off dating, and by "sworn off" I mean that I've finally realized that I'm far too neurotic for anyone to date and I think I'm doing the male gender a favor by kindly bowing out now. Not only am I too neurotic, but I have serious commitment issues. I've had precisely two boyfriends: the first being back during my freshman year of college (you know, back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth and Britney Spears was still considered hot) and the second being during the fall of last year (pre-Lindsay Lohan drunkenly hijacking a car and trying to run over her assistant, but post-Nicole Richie hopped up on Vicodin, driving the wrong way down the highway). Then there's what my friends call "The 4 Month Curse". I've never dated anyone longer than four months. Seriously, I've had bottles of shampoo that have lasted longer than most of my relationships. I did the math and I've been on roughly 5 dates in four years. The amount of hours I've spent watching reruns of Step by Step has officially exceeded the combined amount of hours I've been on dates.

Not that much will actually change now that I'm no longer taking offers. The number of times I masturbate in a week will still be equal or greater than the number of times I've actually had sex. I'll still end up taking my best friend Liz to all of my family functions, furthering my father's belief that I'm a lesbian in denial. However, now that I have accepted it and the thoughts of guys and dating are no longer present in my mind, I have a lot more time to do more productive things to better myself. Such as:

-Think of all the time I'll save not having to get ready to go out. I mean, I'll still go out but now I don't have to worry about impressing anyone. No more spending an hour on my hair, no more poking myself in the eye with my eyelash curler. No more shaving my legs. . .oh who am I kidding, I haven't shaved my legs in two weeks. It's like a fucking jungle down there. I half-expect to scratch my leg and have an entire population of indigenous people fall out.

-I can put more focus on my physical activities. . .and for the first time that doesn't mean sex. Which I haven't had in almost a year, so I guess that really doesn't change either. But seeing as I'm doing the Columbus 1/2 marathon next month, it's good to know that the only thing that'll be going down on me on a regular basis are my Adidas running shorts.

-Maybe I'll also actually do all of my homework. And really read my textbooks. And get a 4.0 GPA. And make the Dean's List. And finally figure out when I'm graduating. And then go buy a new pair of ice skates. So I can go ice skating. When Hell freezes over.

In the end, who needs guys when you have really great girl friends. I mean, the only thing you really need a guy for is to help you put together a bookshelf or carry a heavy box up the stairs or tow your car out when you accidentally drive it over a cliff (which only happened the one time). Granted, a girl friend can't get you off—unless of course you're one of those girls that decides to experiment in college, which I've never done. Although there was that one time I woke up hungover and pantless, spooning my friend Megan with no memory of the night before. But they are there to listen, be a shoulder to cry on and to tell you those pants don't make your ass look huge when they really do.