Best years of my life...?

I’m 22 years old and about to graduate college, so I know what you are all thinking—what could she possibly have to say about dating. Maybe, if for nothing else, my blogging will provide feelings of nostalgia—nostalgia for the “good ole days,” right? I’m here to remind everyone that while college may be the best four years of your life (flirting with every guy at the bar, no-strings-attached hook-ups, nothing to do but study for the occasional exam and drink beer…), there is plenty about college dating that has left me wondering “Who the hell am I?”

As a senior, I have a handful of friends who, for lack of better words, have it all together: the banking job lined up, the perfect boyfriend with a ring in his back pocket, the predictable future of 2.5 children and a golden retriever. And what do I have to show for the past four years? A string of “flings” with guys who are incredibly fun and incredibly wrong for me, a number of crazy hook-up stories that are funny to tell but cringing to hear, and a mounting sense of independence which has bode well for me in life, but which seems to be the death wish for my datablity.

Like many women, I have the curse of being drawn to the A-Holes of the world—the guys who give too much attention to themselves and not enough to their personal relationships; in other words, the guys that are male versions of myself. A friend once told me not to fret, because, she said, these “bad boys” would eventually grow up and decide to settle down, at which point they would be inclined to choose a girl like me: outspoken and a little wild. Could this possibly be true? And if so, do I want to say that I ended up with that A-Hole from Phi Delta Theta? Err...

For now I guess all that I can do is continue to live my life and continue to amuse others with tales of binge drinking and dark alley make outs. After all, these are the best years of my life. I intend to enjoy them.