Tim and I are the sort of people who, by romantic comedy standards, ought to be running through an airport toward each other as the music swells. He's a huge pain in the ass, he says really offensive things frequently, and once he came really close to having sex with a blow up pig that was in my closet. One time we were at the movies together and these women next to me didn't shut up the entire movie, and Tim farted on them as we were passing to leave the theater. I fucking love him.

And the thing is, I don't think I've ever had a boyfriend who was 100% on the Tim train. They usually don't like him, and I suppose I can figure out why. He's attractive, he's brilliant, he makes me laugh way harder than any of them could, and he encourages my badassery and trouble making. Plus, the guy is jacked. If we get completely wasted, we'll probably do it, and we won't be weird about it after. We'll go back to wiping boogers on each other and talking about how we've gotta do something with out writing. So, of course, any man in my life is going to have to be comfortable with and accept that I have a not-gay best friend, and trust that it's not a romance.

Someone recently asked a great question. They wanted to know, if I have male friends who I like to spend time with and enjoy having sex with, what's stopping me from making any one of these people my boyfriend? And I've been thinking about that a lot because I don't have a truly great answer, other than that I don't feel romantic about these friends with benefits, and they don't feel romantic about me. And that's how it is with Tim as well. He's into much younger chicks, and I'm into guys with quirks. Much as I enjoy eating tacos with him and using him as my stand in date for anything I don't want to go to alone, I just don't get that weird, stupid ache of love. And that's for the best, because that ache really fucks things up.

So, this months episode features Tim as my special guest, and we tell the dating story of how we met and how we came really scarily close to not being friends, all because of a guy. We won't let that happen again.

So, I've been single for a month and a half now. And I've been patting myself on the back over it, like I somehow turned a new leaf by not boyfriending it up right away. But that month and a half has been a bit insane. I don't just date a younger man, I date a young European virgin. I don't just date an Irish photographer, I date an autistic Irish gender queer photographer. And I don't just date once or twice a week. I over-date.

In the whirlwind I have begun to think a lot about why I'm dating so much. In fact, the extremely well hung engineer I've been dating is kind of a mirror of me in that regard. So, in listening to him speak about his dating life, I've started to notice that the main reason I date so damn much is not that I'm lonely or terrified that I'll end up alone. And I'm not even seeking love right now. My best friend reminds me with some frequency that I can find a way to dismiss any person I date within the first five minutes of meeting them. Even if I'm nutso about the person before we meet, by the time the date is over, I've already figured out six reasons that it won't work out.

And it isn't the sex, because I have plenty of friends I could call for sex, and sex with a new person isn't as appealing to me as sex with someone I already know. Sure, the game of attraction can be fun, and discovering new chemistry is wonderful. But I'd much prefer my hitachi most nights.

What is it then, that drives me to date with such frequency? It's simple, and stupid. I feel like the frequency with which I date makes me more valuable as a person. I am trying to prove to myself and to others that I am desirable, attractive, and sought after. Which is dumb. I don't need a string of hot men chasing after me to know that I'm okay. I mean, the attention is nice, and I like getting all the free food. Shit, I had leftover duck for breakfast.

But, if I'm really going to start enjoying my dating life, I need to slow it down a whole lot. We'll see how it goes, right? I know myself well enough to know that I could be completely full of crap right now, and that by the weekend I'll have another three dates under my belt. Or maybe I can put my mind to moderation instead. And I can be excessively moderate, however that works. Wish me luck.

It's only fitting that a show designed to talk about my trials and errors of being a single dating mother in LA would bring you yet another episode in which I am back to the eternal coupling drawing board. Things with the musician didn't pan out, which was sad for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that he never wrote a song about me. I even wrote a song about him. Huge rip off.

Anyway, I didn't really waste any time. The day after he broke up with me I put a profile up on OkCupid. Quick, right? Well, come on. I was feeling unattractive and vulnerable and I needed a bunch of strangers to jack off to my photos. (That last part wasn't so much needed. I'm sure I could hire someone for that.)

Two days into the online dating process I remembered why I'd hated it so much when I deleted my profile. It's exhausting. It's so much work, this dating thing, and when you're trying to make things worked based on percentages, photographs, and a surface look of how someone presents themselves to the dating world, eventually it begins to get boring. The usual process goes:

I write to him or he writes to me.
We have a conversation.
Witty? If no, end communication. If yes, schedule date.
Before the date, get worked up. Will he like me? What if he shows up and he's bummed out over the way I look in person? What if we have nothing to talk about?
Date happens. I'm bored. Maybe I sleep with him. I'm still bored.
If I'm not bored, I don't get called back. Oh no. Maybe he was bored.
Gargle. Repeat.

Until eventually I get so damn sick of the process that the next fellow to show up, even if he's a jerk or boring, unfunny, talks too much, sleeps around, isn't anything at all what I had in mind- well- none of it matters. I'm tired of dating, so I go forward with being someone's girlfriend.

But this month isn't about me. Oh no. This month is about you, dating men of the world, because part of the reason women on dating sites are so bitchy and short with you is that we're putting up with a lot of people who think of dating as a pick up game, even if they're trying to have a lasting relationship. So this video is about what I want you to learn. May it make the world of online dating a better place.

If they're not (yuck) independently wealthy, that means they also have a day job. That means that during the same hours I work, they work, and that's perfect. But then after work, unless my hobby become their band, the time we have to spend together is pretty slim.

And it can get tiring, too, all these late night drunken jam sessions after the show, or carrying amps to the band at 2 a.m. while some skinny, giggly fangirls tell the guys one more time how great the show was.

And so, my time with these talented (most of em), lovely men of the world of music is usually limited to about four dates, and maybe a rekindling quickie in a closet should we happen to be at the same party four months later.

This is why I'm surprised to find myself in a FACEBOOK OFFICIAL relationship with a musician, who has a full time job, a second job in the editorial department of a music magazine, a third job as a DJ, and is in a band. I didn't just find a musician, guys. I flat out found Mr. Music. And against my previous rules and better judgment, I am going to give this a solid try. Let's hope that somehow the two of us can find a way to come to some reasonable compromises and that I can be more accepting for the love of all things rock and roll (and sex, of course). And let's also hope that he shows up at my door tonight with soup. Wouldn't that make him awesome?