sad_keanu.jpgSingledom can be a degenerative disease. Instead of alleviating the pain, let’s attack the source of this problem. You may be (sad and) single if…

1. You use the following fragrances: Tag, Axe, Old Spice (arguable). You use them liberally and as if you were hard of smelling. Not even hipsters are this self-ironic.

2. When you see someone you really, really like in public, you flirt with them by staring. Oh god, they’re looking at you! Avert your eyes! Stare at them again. Quick, what does that ad in Spanish say? It’s so fascinating. Er, fascinante.

3. You wear those zip-off pants that can turn into shorts in mere seconds because the sudden need for (pants that turn into) shorts is dire and often merciless.

4. You have no time in your busy schedule. Tuesday night is “Glee” night, and damn it all if you’re going to miss it for some lousy conversation and the possibility of a screw. Plus, now that that Jonathan Groff came back for this past episode AND the next, there is no way you’re going to miss the vocal sexiness of Jesse St. James. Aural sex sounds just as good as oral sex, amirite?

5. You eat cheese so deliciously pungent that when you picked it up at Trader Joe’s this week you could smell that rotting stinky feet smell through three layers of plastic wrap. Actually, this might be worth being single after all.

In fact, if forced to decide between cheese and sex, you’d have to think really hard about that one. What kind of cheese are we talking about here and will it be a lifetime supply?

6. Most of your time spent out in public is on Muni. Considering that it can sometimes take 40 minutes to wait for the next opportunity to travel a few miles and then 40 more minutes to travel those miles, this isn’t that sad. But the only time you got hit on while riding Muni was when you were on the 38-Geary around midnight and a homeless man offered you a shiny new quarter. You politely declined.

7. Secretly, you have a drinking problem. Going on a string of first dates punctuated by the inevitable few-weeks sabbatical of self-pity and loathe-worthy introspection and then more first dates is your enabler. No one will notice your problem if you spread it over time spent with strangers and mild (though sexy) acquaintances.

San Franciscans love to drink, and you can hide your dependency behind the fact that the only thing San Franciscans love more than booze is someone who knows as much about cocktails and booze and wine and local breweries as you do, you lush. Except that this leads to your next problem…

8. You suffer from verbal diarrhea. On your last date, you talked about your ex, living on food stamps, your previous first dates, how many times you get catcalled in one week and exactly what they entail, your office “husband,” your intense love of cats only intensified by the inability to have one in your apartment, your various threesome experiences and the spoilers for season four of “Mad Men” when he just said he finished season three (“And what about Joan having Roger’s baby?!”). And this was all before you mentioned the importance of “good digestion” and bowel movements.

9. You don’t “do” oral sex.

10. Because being unattached, unburdened and un-beholden to anyone else sounds really good right now. You want to have lots of sex with lots of different people without the social contract of commitment. You enjoy the envy of your friends, who live vicariously through your stories of what it’s like to romance and seduce without fetters.

Also, there is not enough of you to go around, and being the generous lover that you are, you certainly don’t want to deprive anyone of the carnal pleasures that you bestow. For you, being single is not a curse and a reason for mockery but rather a blessing…for everyone else.

The Sexual Manifesto is Christine Borden’s weekly column on sex in the city, sex and culture, and, well, sex. Got a tip for Christine (and it’s not in your pants)? Email her at christine@sfappeal.com.

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  • Matt Stewart

    #11: You’re Jeannie.

  • Christine Borden

    I LOLed.

  • Matt Stewart

    By the way, make a point of not reading Jeannie’s projectile vomit inducing tripe scribblings. It’ll rot you’re brain and turn you into a flesh-eating zombie. You’ve been warned.