Oh my gosh, you guys, it's happening. In case you're wondering what the fuck I'm referring to, let's start all the way back at the beginning. When I was 21, I started writing a sitcom pilot loosely based on my life about a young girl who moves from NYC to LA for college. Since I always wanted to go away to college, but yet for some reason never actually did it, I decided to do the next best thing: write about it. Girl moves across country for college. Bo-ring! I needed a story. Something compelling. Something relatable. Since I have a neurotic Jewish mother who is up my ass, I couldn't help but think -- what would she have done if I really moved 3,000 miles away? I mean, she had a problem with me going to a college that was a half hour away from home, let alone across the country! I didn't even have to think about it. It was a no brainer. She totally would have followed me there and moved in.

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Cut to -- ten years later, I'm actually living in Los Angeles. Sure, my mom had a hard time accepting the fact that I moved across the country. But I did it with good reason: to get away from her to pursue my dream of becoming a sitcom writer. Now, I have a great job, I'm making a lot of money, and I have an amazing boyfriend. So, when my mom asks when I'm moving back to NYC, the answer is simply -- not going to happen in a million years. Okay, maybe it's not so simple. I explained to her (and quite nicely, might I add), that I have a life here now. A life that I love, and I wouldn't trade it in to go back to NYC. And so, she completely understood. I know, crazy right? But you know what's even crazier ... now my mom is starting to seriously think about moving to LA. I'm starting to seriously think about drafting up my suicide note. To be continued ...

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But now that I think about it, all of those bad dates happened for a reason. Like that time when when I went out with a boy I met at a bar. He took me out to dinner, got me drunk, and when I didn't want to go home with him at the end of the night, he hailed me a cab, gave me a sweet kiss on the lips ... and then got in the cab and left me in the middle of the street. Alone. Or how about that time when I thought I met the man of my dreams on the Internet, and then randomly met that actual person IN person purely by coincidence, only to realize the person I've been talking to online was some random girl who constantly had her period. (I do not know if this person was really a girl, nor do I know if they had their period, it's merely an assumption).

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But now that I think about it, all of those bad dates happened for a reason. Like that time when when I went out with a boy I met at a bar. He took me out to dinner, got me drunk, and when I didn't want to go home with him at the end of the night, he hailed me a cab, gave me a sweet kiss on the lips ... and then got in the cab and left me in the middle of the street. Alone. Or how about that time when I thought I met the man of my dreams on the Internet, and then randomly met that actual person IN person purely by coincidence, only to realize the person I've been talking to online was some random girl who constantly had her period. (I do not know if this person was really a girl, nor do I know if they had their period, it's merely an assumption).

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So you see, going on bad dates and having awful things happen to me, just makes me appreciate my boyfriend even more. Because our first date was flawless. Nothing was awkward. He treated me with respect (he - GASP - opened the car door for me!) He made me laugh. He bought me dinner. And most importantly, he didn't make me fall asleep (I have a tendency of randomly passing out in public places, and no, I do not have narcolepsy). And get this, he even walked me to my apartment at the end of the night. Okay, fine, I guess this wasn't the biggest deal since he is my neighbor and lives right upstairs. But instead of asking to stay the night, he simply told me to lock the door, and went back to his place. If only more guys were like that, the world would be a better place.

Now that I have a boyfriend (I know right, I can't believe it either!) I must admit, I do not miss being single. Not even a little. Not even at all. I remember all of those shitty dates I went on, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it might actually work out for once. At least for a few months. Because dating somebody who I was sort of interested in, seemed so much better than going on awkward dates with people you don't even know. Making out with boys when you're drunk. Waking up the morning after thinking, what the fuck did I do that for? Not to mention, having to constantly tell your mom that there is in fact a reason why you're on the pill other than having sex, is totally exhausting.

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