There are girls you date and girls you marry. You date me. I'm not meant for fairytales. This is just the reality I've come to accept. Like Elphaba said in Wicked, "I'm not that girl!" I don't have the blythe smile or gentle curls.

I'm not the girl next door, unless you live next door to a meth lab. I'm tatted up, my hair has been every color of the rainbow (and some that don’t appear in nature), my nose is pierced, I'm a recovering addict ... I could go on and on.

I'm like a stray dog under your porch, skittish. If you want me, you're gonna have to work. It's a weeding out process that is likely why I'm alone. If you get too close and do something suspect, I bolt. I don't ask, I just ghost.

I'm very guarded and with good reason. This keeps me single. Underneath all of that, I'm actually a nice person... but a lot of shit has happened to me. Opening up terrifies me. I built a fence around the wall around the moat around my heart. And I'm okay with this.

I don't confuse sex or lust for affection or love. I connect with people easily: I'm easy to talk to and hang out with. It’s just my personality, so it doesn't mean much to me to feel a connection with someone. We can be friends, but I likely won't let you in.

I have no issue having to be earned. If you saw half of the lame asses who try to talk to me, you'd get it. I'm a little long in the tooth for an internet famous attitude on a broke ass. You don't have to be rich but you have to be driven. I know the type of love I'm capable of, and I know it's rarely returned.

I'm not the marrying sort. Like a wildfire, I burn fast and hot, then out completely. My ex said people would love me, but they'd never want to be with me, and maybe that's right.... OR maybe I've picked the wrong people. Maybe if I was basic, lame and completely vapid I'd be blissfully engaged. But I'm not. I'm too smart for my own good and not ashamed of it.

I'm a realist. If you'd take the dumpster fire of a human being that is me home to meet your mom, you're an awful child. I've resigned myself to the fact that I will likely end up single, in my 60's, living with my gay best friend Sully, and being a crazy cat lady—only with small breed dogs. Sounds like heaven! I'll be getting all that sweet retirement home bootéy without having to answer to anyone, while drowning in teacup Chihuahuas.

I need to step back, "balance my chi, and decide if I like you or just like the fact that you like me," to keep from making that mistake of settling again. When I settle, I only hurt the other person, and while crushing someone else's soul is fun for a tick it starts to take a toll on the conscience.

Sully once said, "Keeping up with whose heart you broke this week is a full time job. If you want me to keep track you're gonna have to hire me a secretary!"  I attract some weirdos that's for sure.

I'm that irritating person who wants to know I have your attention but doesn't want your affection. Yes, I'll admit it, I want to know you stalked my Facebook and read my column, but I don't want you all over me in public. I'm prolly not gonna do the same for you. I know how that sounds and I own it. Again, reasons I'll die alone.

Society puts pressure on us to partner up and therefore we put pressure on ourselves. But what if your love story isn't basic as hell? What if your love story is just as good, if not better, by being more like The Hangover and less like The Notebook? Because I think mine is.

Follow me on this. Easily one of the greatest loves of my life is my best friend, Sully. Our relationship functions much like a marriage, complete with the no sex part. We meet each other's emotional needs, finish each other's sentences, do everything together, and are there for each other no matter what.

Literally no one could take my place in his life, and vice versa. No one really could compete. Which makes dating either of us seriously kind of impossible. Our emotional needs are met and we're fulfilled. There's no competing so if we're gonna not be single, you're gonna have to be amazing. And you're gonna have to fit into our little club.

I'm actually pretty lucky. It's like we're a weird type of poly. Sully is my primary relationship where I am emotionally fulfilled and then I date other people here and there for a few months at a time. It's a pretty sweet gig. 

I've even got some long term emotional side chicks, like our editor and his partner. Our editor, James, by the way, is a fantastic, loving, and supportive friend — no matter what kind of hateful queen facade he puts on (doubt that'll make it to print).

Look, there are girls (or boys) you date and girls (or boys) you marry. I'm the dating sort, because I live where the wild things are. And there's nothing wrong with that. I am a storm: you write break-up songs about me, not your magnum opus. When we stop trying to be the DeBeers diamond commercial advertisers want us to be and start being the whoever we are on the inside, that's where real happiness is found.

When you stop looking for a partner you become very liberated. I say what I want, wear what I want, and do what I want, because I answer to me and live for my happiness. I have no concerns about masquerading or pretending to adult so I can attract someone. I have someone to be silly with and go on dates with, I just don't sleep with them.

I won't let corporate America pick my music, they sure aren't picking my lifestyle. I may be unmarriageable, but I'm not undatable or unfriendable. Do you and be happy. And to Sully, James and Cody, thanks for being the best reverse Mormon husbands a girl could have.