-A few weeks ago, within a fifteen-minute period, I received phone calls informing me that not one but two of my ex-girlfriends had just gotten engaged. When I was in my twenties, I would have reacted to such news with shock, disbelief, and finally relief (that it wasn’t me getting hitched). These days, though, finding out that one (or two) of your exes is tying the knot is simply another pedestrian event in the thirtysomething experience. Those of us who’ve remained single pause for a moment to absorb the news, before quickly resuming our lives of dating, drinking, and debauchery unrestrained by the bonds of marriage. If we happen to run into our exes, we congratulate them, feign awe at the ring (even though we have no fucking clue what a diamond is supposed to look like), ask if they’ve decided on a date yet, then make an excuse to leave and scramble to catch two-for-one pitchers at the bar. We say, “I’m so happy for you,” but what we really mean is, “I’m having more fun than you.”

-Note to self: when a woman you don’t know that well changes the last name on her email account, don’t write, “Congrats on getting married!” She may have gotten divorced.

-Nothing is more confusing for a guy than when a girl he’s hitting on mentions her ex-boyfriend in conversation. Did you mean “ex-boyfriend” to imply that you’re single now, or that you have a new boyfriend? Please advise me so I know whether I can stop pretending to give a shit where you went to grad school.

-When my third book, “I’m Having More Fun Than You,” is published tomorrow, I hope it will illuminate the courage of single people who persevere even though most of their friends have succumbed to marriage. The title of the book is actually based on a t-shirt I received when I performed during Greek Week at UMass in 2005. Trying (perhaps misguidedly) to refute the anti-Greek sentiment on campus at the time, the shirt read: “We’re Having More Fun Than You.” I pitched that title to my editor at HarperCollins, explaining that it meant “We” (single people) are having more fun than “You” (people in relationships). She suggested that the “We” be changed to “I.” Hesitant, I said, “But won’t that make me sound a little obnoxious?” She replied, “That’s why it’s perfect.” Stupid t-shirt.

-Ladies, if your middle name sounds like a maiden name, I will reject your friend request on grounds of suspicion of marriage.

-Last weekend, I saw my buddy running game on these two fortysomething women at the bar, so I joined the conversation. Cougars aren’t really my thing, though; in fact, I was kind of turned off. Sure, I guess it’s cool that you’re still attractive and independent. But if hanging out at loud, crowded bars at 2am and being hit on by my friend whose moral fiber is questionable at best is what you’re doing now, then what God-awful things were you doing during your thirties?

-One of my agents, who’s about ten years older than me, recently got engaged. I must admit I’m genuinely happy for the guy. Not only is he a good dude, but I feel more comfortable paying 10% of everything I earn to someone who’s settled down and reliable like him, as opposed to someone single and unstable (like me). Upon hearing the news, I told him that he shouldn’t feel obligated to invite me to the wedding. Besides fearing the possibility of sitting at a table full of cougars, I just don’t like mixing business with pleasure – in this case, the business being a wedding full of Hollywood types, and the pleasure being the spectacle of holy matrimony… happening to someone other than me.

-As always, here are some random things I’ve been ruminating about lately…

-The “clean filter” light on my air conditioner just went on. I immediately went searching for the instruction manual – not to figure out how to clean the filter, of course, but to figure out how to turn that little light off.

-The other day I ran into a friend of mine in the parking lot of our apartment building. She said she was in a rush to catch the half-price early bird special at the car wash. Then I saw her peel out in a Lexus SUV. Only in LA.

-Once you break a glass in the kitchen, you can never really clean up every single shard. Eventually you just go back in there barefoot and pray you don’t cut an artery.

-I wish there was a support group I could join for people who are convinced that the Seinfeld reunion on Curb Your Enthusiasm can’t possibly live up to expectations.

-I don’t even like driving forward over those spikes that cause severe tire damage if you back up.

-If yourfirstname.yourlastname@gmail.com is not available, don’t go with yourlastname.yourfirstname@gmail.com. You just look like a moron. Especially if you get divorced.

-There’s a new bar a few blocks from my apartment that’s supposed to be a secretive, speakeasy-type establishment – no signs, no photography allowed inside, and no reviews in the press. What did I see when I went a few weeks ago? A three-foot placard out front – complete with the bar’s name – advertising $10 valet parking. Only in LA.

-The other chick Taylor Swift describes in that song seems pretty hot.

-I had Grey Goose with Capri Sun last weekend. I like my cocktails with a splash of nostalgia and a strong dose of irony.

-Getting one of your buddies to pick you up at the airport is awesome. But if they are any more than three minutes late and you have to wait at the curb in front of the terminal like a petty commoner, you rue the day you ever met them.

-And, finally, the release of my new book tomorrow also corresponds roughly with the twelve-year anniversary of this column. To this day I’m still amazed that something I began in my freshman dorm room in 1997 has grown to be so widely read. It is both heartening and humbling. To be honest, there have been times over the past twelve years when I have considered retiring from Ruminations. Recording every observation that pops into my head every hour of every day is neither normal nor healthy. But making people laugh is addictive, and I’m ever thankful for the opportunity to be a part of your lives. Just don’t get any crazy ideas like inviting me to your wedding. Fuck me!

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