“If only he were 16 years older.”

My grandfather, an avid reader of my blog, made a comment the other day I have been unable to avoid overanalyzing in great detail. He said, “It’s a shame that six year old you babysit isn’t 22 because if he were, you two would be engaged.” The implication being that since Aldie is brilliant, adorable, and likely to achieve financial success as a savvy investment banker, he is the perfect guy for a single, clearly not mingling 22 year old girl.

And until he made that comment I had been doing pretty well abiding by one of my New Year’s resolutions– to not complain about the things I am unwilling to make an effort to change. For example, I am constantly plagued by dry skin during the winter months, but I am not ready to shell out the requisite $45 for a decent humidifier. Hence, instead of kvetching for all the world to hear, I have taken to using excessive amounts of hand cream in silence.

The same principle can be applied to my continual bout of singledom. With my future so undetermined, I do not feel like I am in the best position to throw on my Spanx and embark on a man hunt– especially when I have two entire seasons of Downton Abbey to catch up on. And so instead of engaging in a nightly tear fest about my lack of love life, I have embraced a new British period piece television show and picked up a few babysitting gigs.

To my grandfather, this is just plain wasteful. And frankly I get it. If I lived at home and saved money on rent, I could afford the cost of a JDate account. But instead I am choosing to put my career before my uterus. For that, I respectfully apologize. But even Aldie came from non-traditional beginnings– think: petri dish.

“Don’t leave it to fate. JDate.co.il”

And as a girl who has always made a habit of challenging the status quo, I plan to give myself just this evening to bemoan my single status (with the help of a little Mariah Carey and some diet coke). But come tomorrow, I’m back on the New Year’s resolution abiding path. I’ve got mountains to climb before I sleep. As Betty Bender, an author of sorts, once said, “Anything I’ve ever done that ultimately was worthwhile…initially scared me to death.” Or, in this case, my grandfather.

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