The first thing my best friend Kendra said when I told her I was swearing off guys was: “Yeah okay, Reese. You said that last week.”

Which is true, but I am serious this time. After the last few days I’ve had, this is the conclusion I’ve come to and I stand by it.

It started off on Thursday night. Kendra planned a little celebratory dinner for me because I just got a huge promotion at work. She booked a private room in a chic little Italian eatery and all of our friends were coming including this guy I’ve been kind of, sort of talking to for the last few weeks. I even pulled out my Saint Laurent Paris Python pumps so that’s how you know how big of a deal it was for me. An hour before everyone was set to arrive, he sent me a text: “Trapped at work. I don’t think I’m going to make it. I’m so sorry.”

Not to sound like an insensitive bitch, but he’s an ad salesman not a brain surgeon or anything important so I didn’t believe his story.

“Do not worry about him, Reese. You’re wearing your Alice + Olivia dress and YSL pumps. You are going to have fun tonight,” my friend Preston said.

Preston is the gay best friend every girl wishes she had. During the day he works at a fashion house so he is always telling us when our outfits are “too Miley” or “not enough Beyoncé” which is helpful. In the evening he waits tables at a sushi lounge so he hooks us up with tuna rolls and sake whenever we stop in.

Everyone else ended up showing up and we had such an amazing time eating and drinking that I didn’t even notice what’s-his-face’s absence. Then when I got home, after I showered and put on my pajamas I got another text from him: “Are you still up? I’ll stop by.”

And be your booty call? No. I didn’t even entertain him with a response and actually I haven’t heard from him since. Good riddance.

Fast forward to last night. Kendra, Preston and our friend Carly and I went out to a little cantina to celebrate Cinco de Drinko. I immediately hit it off with this gorgeous guy. He worked in finance, dressed impeccably (Preston informed me that his shirt and shoes were Tom Ford), and he put all of our drinks on his tab. I spent an hour and a half of my life flirting with this guy, really laying on the charm and he was digging it. Or so I thought. He told me he was going to find his friends but would come back and find me later. Cool. I needed to discuss the possibility of going home with him with Kendra anyway. (Just kidding. I don’t go home with random guys just because they have on $1,500 shoes. Usually.)

I had almost forgotten about him then Carly dragged me to the bathroom and there my banker babe was: sucking the life out of some blonde chick.

Are. You. Kidding. Me.

Carly and I stared for moment at them groping each other until I shoved her in the bathroom and pretended I didn’t see that disgusting display of humanity.

He had the nerve to come find me later on.

“Oh heyyyy! I’m assuming that girl you were giving CPR to is okay?” I said dripping with sarcasm.

Needless to say, that was last I saw of him.

So I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Not to sound totally pretentious, but I really feel like I’m a good catch. I’ve been told that I’m pretty, I have a kick ass job (just promoted to director of branding, holler at your girl), an amazing apartment (kind of small, but there’s a doorman), and I’m funny. That sounded like the ultimate humble brag, but stay with me here.

I just feel like everyone is getting engaged and married and I can’t even get a guy to meet my parents. Like Kendra. She has this serious boyfriend who is going to propose any day now. I mean, I get it. She just graduated from law school, has a Roth IRA and looks good in red lipstick, but jeez.

In all honestly, I feel like I did something in my past life to get cursed in dating like this. Or maybe it’s because I dumped my last boyfriend for not calling in to work to take care of me when I was sick (you would’ve too. I thought I was dying).

But anyways, none of that really matters right now because I’m taking a dating sabbatical until further notice.