She said this in pensive tone with a knowing look in her eye: “Oh, Suzanne, you’ll know.”

I didn’t believe her, as I often didn’t about much of anything. But of course, as mothers are, she was right.

When I moved to Raleigh three years ago, I didn’t have much dating or relationship experience. I came here, tried on a few pairs of jeans, including one year-long relationship with a man. But the entire time we were together, I never felt that connection with him, that THING. He taught me many things about myself, but clearly wasn’t The One.

Soon, Kevin and I celebrate our one-year anniversary. I’ve known he was The One since our first month together.

More than one of my friends has suggested to me that for this blog to live and keep growing in readership, I should start making stuff up.

“No one wants to read about your perfectly happy, content relationship,” they say.

Maybe they’re right. No drama to entertain you with this week, that’s for sure.

I started this blog to deal with being dumped twice within a few months. It gave me a new perspective on being single: the fun side. Going to The Men’s Club, trying speed dating, kissing random guys — all good for the aching heart and fun reading for others.

But things have changed, and I have no desire to  sell out and write fiction just to bump my numbers. Sure, I could turn this into a relationship blog, and to some extent, that’s what this has become.  But I find myself interested in writing about other topics. I want to keep blogging, but not here under my pseudonym.

This blog has taught me a lot about myself, but it isn’t The One.

I read an article last year by a social media guru called “Five Signs It’s Time to Kill Your Blog.” I think I’ve hit most of those. He’s had several blogs, and his advice was “know when to quit and move on.”

Thanks for reading, sharing and caring with me for the past year and a half.

Those of you who know me know where to find me. If you don’t know me, but want to keep following me on my new blog, send me an email: singlesuzanne@gmail.com.

Six weeks on your own gets lonely. Eating alone, walking alone, seeing the cool sights alone. I met up with other backpackers at hostels and took some tours with them, but in the end, it was just me traveling the world. It teaches you something, and I’m glad I did it.

One of many new experiences was attending a movie by myself. Thanks to train schedules, I was stuck an extra day in a French city I’d already seen. I found a hole-in-the-wall movie theater showing American movies in English with French subtitles.Cost: 2 Euro.

Oh the joy! I escaped the hot sun in the cool, dark theater and wrapped myself in the comfort of hearing my own language and seeing familiar faces in Shrek 2 and Harry Potter. I forgot where and who I was, drowning my isolation in the movies. It’s something I’ll never forget.

I recently overheard a girl exclaiming how ridiculous it would be to go to the movies by yourself, and I smiled. I’ve done it, and it was fantastic.

Since returning, I have never gone to the movies alone. Here, it’s a social activity, and I don’t often want to shell out $12-15 for a movie anyway. But I feel like it’s something you should not be afraid to do.

2. My super conservative side of the family asking me if I’ve found Jesus.

3. It’s forcing me to drive to the northern midwest. In March. There’s probably still snow on the ground.

4. What??? A DRY wedding reception?

5. Family members asking me for the upmteenth time why I’m not married yet. “Aren’t you turning 29 this year?”

6. Related: I’ll no doubt be one of two women shuffled onto the dance floor to try to catch the bouquet. The other will be 18 years old.

7. The bride was hospitalized this week with kidney stones. It doesn’t bode well for a good party, but I’m hoping she feels better!

I’m a glass is half full kind of girl — even if that glass is short on the Captain Morgan — so here are a few bright sides to my cousin’s nuptials this weekend:

1. I get to see my adorable nieces and nephew.

2. I get a long weekend away from my job.

3. Kevin will finally get to meet my two older brothers. Now THAT is more than worth the price of admission.

The other day I saw a guy downtown reading a book while riding his bike hands-free. There’s some serious balancing skills.

I can’t do it. I only get a few feet before my hands come back to the handlebars to hold them steady. I had a lot of earaches as a child, and I think it has affected my balance. So much for that gymnastics career.

by elbragon

The day before, Kevin had asked if we wanted to invite other people along for a bike ride sometime. Sure, sometime, but not this time. Why not, he asked.

Good question. But the truth is, I like hogging Kevin to myself. I like our time together, especially on Saturdays. With our differing work schedules, Saturdays are the one full day I get to hang out with him. When we take bike rides, we do cute couple things, and we also push ourselves to ride farther. This weekend we rode for more than four hours.

Don’t get me wrong; I like to socialize with friends. I want to see them, but we tend to go out during the week, and we’re socializing on Friday nights. He’s usually out with people on Sundays while I work. Is it wrong to be selfish one day a week?

We’re trying to find balance in our social lives versus our couples life. We don’t want to be the couple that never goes out, never sees our friends. I don’t want people  to say, “Well, she used to do cool things and go out a lot, but then she got a boyfriend.”

I feel I’m pretty good at balancing life in general, but when it comes to this, it’s a little more like the bicycle.

I think I say “no” too much, but I also think he says “yes” too much. He’s always the one to plan, to get things moving, to drive, to pay for the tickets or beer and have people pay him back. Why not let someone else take a turn?

I told him it’s one more reason we’re perfect for each other. He and I are yin and yang on this one. Maybe we can balance each other out.

And after all, food brings people together. Dishing about boy information is something my friends and I used to taste daily.

I’m not even sure guys understand what kind of details women share. What’s he like? How was the date? Can you believe that douchebag said that to me at the bar? And yes: how big was he?

But my friends, mostly in serious relationships, don’t dish anymore. Neither do I.

Now, it feels almost sacred. Kevin and I have our couple stuff. But it’s our own flavor of behavior, and a dish we do not share with others. In fact, when another couple serves too much of it in front of others, we question the appropriateness. Keep your cutsie stuff in your own kitchen, please.

Sometimes I miss the flavor of the dish. Really, I just miss the connection it gave me with my girlfriends.

And there is no way I’d trade in the blissful happiness Kevin and I have just for that taste. Bliss is an entirely different thing: a whole sweet, salty, savory meal.

Do you ever notice a shift in sharing when in a serious relationship?

• So ummmmm afta much deliberation I’ve decided to start dating white boys…..#random
• Relationships are just fun and rainbows until you have to set up ground rules :/
• Not necessarily! There are some relationships that can be pure Disney!
• Glenwood south is the jersey shore of Raleigh.
• He’s the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. (Note from Suzanne: This sounds like a set up for failure — what?– he’s not the best boyfriend in the world?)
• #sexlocations the stairs in the parking deck downtown raleigh (Ahem, really? The stairs? Ew.)

by apdk

“Ok, I’m ready,” Kevin told me.

He clapped his hands together in front of him, and then gave me a thumbs up with each. I laughed.

The joke: I make that move all the time. I also (apparently) wiggle my head a lot when I talk.

When you’re single, there is no one around to point out these odd bits of behavior. Now, I have a keen observer, a mirror for my idiosyncrasies, I feel more self-conscious, and I find myself changing my ways.

He’s upset. He loves all my weirdo activities — even my sound effects and noises. The little quirks that make me who I am are part of who he fell in love with. He promises to stop pointing them out, but he can’t help but laugh at some of them. (Yeah, I’m pretty odd.)

For some odd reason, I can’t think of a single funny or odd thing he does. He talks out loud to himself, but so do I. And I think his facial expressions are funny, but they’re always intended to be — he likes to bug me and provoke reaction.

I guess I’ll just have to keep being weird. apparently, it’s a hit.  *claps hands* *thumbs up*

Do you have any weird things you do that people point out?

As the writer said, “But the big surprise is that this is a distinctly minority opinion. Instead, in relationships where the man drives more, 113 of you said this was due to the woman’s preference, while only 43 said it was the choice of the man.”

I confess that Kevin drives more than I do. That’s because he likes to drive, and I don’t really care either way. Plus, his car is bigger and nicer, so we often take it for road trips instead of mine.

How about you? Who does the driving (at least behind the wheel) in your relationship?

Lately, I’ve been spending a lot more with my male buds. They’re good friends, buying me a drink if my funds are low and spreading beer cheer when I’m down.

They provide an endless source of entertainment, as long as you’re going for dirty jokes, discussions of programming languages I don’t understand and music that doesn’t interest me.

Another great advantage is to eavesdrop on their discussions of women. It’s always interesting to hear their perspective on social situations with the opposite sex. Believe it or not, men (at least these ones) aren’t all that different from women when it comes to mustering courage, figuring out whether a date is a date and debating when to call.

Last Friday we all went out for beers at Landmark Tavern, which, in my humble opinion is one of the best hangout bars in Raleigh. Typically, it’s a roughly even mix of men and women, but that night the place was jam-packed with johns.

My eyes roved the room. “Raleigh really IS a great place to be single,” I thought.

I’m as rusty as the Tin Man when it comes to checking out guys and not really into it just yet anyway. (Gimme Oil Cans for courage and another week, ok? Blech, Foster’s.)

But it occurred to me that even if my social skills were up to speed, surrounded by the so-called “sausage fest,” could I be successful? What man would dare approach an attractive female surrounded by four guys?

One of my guy friends from college says that there can be no friendship between two members of the opposite sex without some degree of sexual tension. I disagree; I have had many friends for whom I feel no attraction. But he said for men, it’s different.

And I wondered – as I enjoy my single status, do I not get an ego boost out of hanging out with my guy friends? Aside from their genuine friendship, don’t I enjoy the male attention, ribbing and minor flirtatious comments as we wax poetic over Chimays?

Indeed, three of these four (the foruth has a gf) pay me compliments on a regular basis, and the all deserve knighthood for often opining that my ex is a “worthless douchebag.” (I didn’t say they were well-spoken knights.)

But then again, friends are the people who are there for you, who make you feel better, give you that boost up when you’re down. So what’s wrong with that?

Now, my only concern is that maybe my old college friend is right – perhaps there is a shiver of sexual tension between me and each of my single male friends.

If that’s the case, I have no need to worry about whether my guys will be messing with my game at Landmark. It’s whether I, in a moment of weakness, will decide maybe one of these guys should be part of my game instead of my relief from it.

Nope. Guess again. I’m talking about faking religion.

I just read an opinion piece in the New York Times about a couple in Texas who fakes religion to ensure their children have play dates. And it got me thinking about my own religious fake.

It was 2006, I was living in a small Tennessee town, and I had just begun seeing an interesting man. At that point, I’d only had one “semi-serious” relationship, and I was excited that someone in this pathetic town of white-haired people was near my age and interested in me.

During our initial conversation, I found out he used to be a youth minister. So on our first date, I broke from my usual rules and brought up religion.

“I’m not religious,” I told him. “I went to Sunday School and church camp as a kid, and I was raised with basic Christian beliefs, but I don’t practice now.”

I figured if it was going to be a problem, I may as well get it out up front. He said it wasn’t an issue. He left the church because he was feeling conflicted about his religious beliefs. After the divorcing the church and his wife, he moved to New York City, where he proceeded to party like a rock star for two years.

He was now in Tennessee, working and living a more normal, balanced life, but he wasn’t practicing religion – or celibacy — which for me, was a green light. I should have known better.

Aside from his baggage as a divorcee, as the months passed, he found God again. So one day he asked me how I felt about religion.

I tried to explain my particular odd brand of spiritual non-religion, which has more to do with the basic principles of goodness and some nature-related paganism than weekly church rituals. Soon, I was single.

What bothered me then: I was honest from the beginning; he was the one who told me it wasn’t a problem. Until it was.

What bothered me later: I told him I’d go to church for him. Before he asked for my specific feelings, I supported his spiritual awakening and tried to be understanding. You know — a good girlfriend. But deep down, I knew I was faking it. And it didn’t feel right.

Strong religious beliefs (and a prior marriage) are now on my list of dating deal breakers.

Now that I read that NYT column, I’m wondering what else we fake for people.

You fake orgasm on that one-night stand, just to get him out the door. I faked religion on a relationship, just to keep him from walking out the door.

During our daily conversations with colleagues, associates, don’t we fake it all the time?

A fake laugh at the off-color joke that we find offensive, just to keep from rocking the boat? A fake half-nod of agreement when someone you know rants about something you think was his or her fault? Fake friendly chit-chat with the coworker who bothers you, just to get along and make work easier?

Considering how short life is, sometimes it’s just easier to fake it.

But, considering how short life is, wouldn’t be easier to be ourselves?