Calling all men of the world...

As I'm sure you've guessed by now, the queen of all tragic rodents has not yet been swept up. At least, not by a man. By the magic of Lost on DVD and the Thursday night NBC comedy block, sure. By the evil witchcraft of the Food Network and every cupcake bakery on the Upper West Side? (and yes, I can find them all blind-folded), absolutely. But by a man? No. Or I should say - not yet. So last month, as a solution (or rather, an inept plot device engineered by someone who has seen way more 30 Rock episodes than is normal) I've decided to go out on 30 dates before my 30th Birthday - hopefully not with 30 different guys, although I'm not about to hold my breath. My Relationship Magic 8 Ball still points to Try Again Later - however much I may have believed, at the age of 18, that at 30 I'd at least be living with someone, even if at 18 I also believed that 30 was the age people started sleeping in coffins.

RIP, youth and stupidity.

"I don't even know what you're so friggen worried about, you're still so young," was what my grandmother was quick to remind me at dinner last week - and although I suppose in comparison to her 90 years I seem like a surly little ova, the next words out of her mouth were, "And if I die before I have any great grand-children, so be it. God's will."

(I swear, you have no idea how much wine it takes to get through a dinner at my aunt's house.)

All in all, I'm doing rather poorly thus far - 10 dates, no takers, and five more months to go.

But just to give you an idea of what I'm up against here, let me describe what I've dealt with so far:

- guys who dirty-talk me by asking if I've ever watched cat-porn on TV - as in, two house cats fucking. True story.

- guys who open with, "not that I go around talking about my money, but I'm fine with you getting whatever you want. If you want the deluxe with fries that's fine. I'll pick up the tab - I have a job."

- guys who begin with, "Wow, I was actually kind of thinking you'd be late because of the rain," after I catch him at the bar, flirting with some whore disguised as an innocent, ten minutes before we're about to get our free mini-pizza with beer on. (I paid for that beer, by the way, because he apparently "wore the wrong jeans" - like the ones missing a place to store his balls, apparently - yeah, thanks match.com. But here's a word of advice, ladies: Don't let that guy make out with you after the beer is gone just because you're bored and super-competitive and have a need to show up that girl at the bar because she's taller and blonder. That would just be crazy. And retarded.)

- guys who, when I push back our first date one hour, demand to know "why you are trying to jerk me around by my ball sac." (this gem via text message.)

- guys who don't call, yet send out of the blue, mispelled Facebook make-out pleas, and the next day follow it up with: "I think I messaged you last night? I'm so sorry. My ex-girlfriend texted me out of nowhere and it stressed me out, so I took an Ambien. Thanks for being cool. What are you up to later?"

- guys who get on the wrong train and end up in Babylon. Three hours away.

- guys who come over for dinner and immediately apologize for their appearance by explaining, in these exact words, "My friends and I were drinking. It was Boggle. It got ugly. Sometimes I go a little crazy." He had a huge black eye - like a panda, except not at all cute.

So this is my problem: have all the normal guys been taken? Have I missed my window? Am I sending out digital dating signals which can only be picked up by Douchebag Sattelite? Does true love even exist? Or has some cuter girl already stolen my one true love because she went to the right bar with free pizza - and I went to the wrong bar with free pizza and a guy who keeps his money in the wrong pants? Or is it me? Is that it? Is it the way my ass looks in jeans? Should I buy new jeans? Should I watch more What Not To Wear? SO MANY QUESTIONS, BABY JESUS!

Le sigh.

Why are there never any answers?

Maybe I'll figure it all out during the last five months of 2009 - with 20 more dates to go.