Oh, the joys and pains of being a woman. Sunday morning, I found myself in my temporary New York City digs in need of personal maintenance. You know, those womanly chores we love to hate — or maybe just hate — with a passion.

Being that the prior week was so hectic, I hadnít had time to pay attention to myself, and by the weekend, I was a mess.

I needed a shampoo and a shave like nobody's business. The shampoo was going to be easy, I figured. So I decided to begin with my least favorite chore — shaving, though I decided to use one of those hair-removal-in-a-tube deals.

Ordinarily, I don't subscribe to chemical hair removal, because it's so messy, and because there's just something strange about the process.

But my heightened need for hair removal — summer equals skin exposure — and the fact I get so impatient when I shave, made me take the plunge.

I wish I had checked the water situation in the apartment before smearing the hair remover on.

Thank goodness it was merely a lack of hot water, and not a full-on drought. If that had been the case, I would be going through the remainder of these horrid New York summers hiding vanity-induced chemical burns under long pants.

It's all in the name of beauty, I suppose.

Why in earth do we as women care so much? What's it all for?

Is it really for ourselves?

It seems the tide may be turning, but I want to be careful not to rock the boat — or do I? I have recently been given the keys to a friend's apartment in New York City.

My friend Wendy is taking advantage of the summer to visit with her family in North Carolina, before the next semester starts in the fall. This couldn't have happened at a better time for me, as I needed to be closer to the city than my upstate digs would allow.

During the past week, I actually was called in for several interviews. Ordinarily, interviews are not on my list of favorite things to do. But being that things are so tight with the economy, I am happy to be at the point where I am getting callbacks.

But now I am faced with a dilemma.

After one four-hour marathon interview, I was offered a job.

After a half-marathon, two hour interview, I was not offered a job, but am optimistic about my chances.

What I don't like is the wait — two to three weeks while they interview the remaining candidates.

Do I take the job offered to me, or do I wait to see if I am "the right fit" for the other organization's program.

Do I go for the job that is something I really want to do? Or do I go for the job that would offer me a definite paycheck?

Decisions, decisions...

I previously wrote that I would not have the savvy nor the energy to pull off dating two men at once. After posting it, I wondered if I was in fact sure of this. And if this was the definitive answer, why wasn’t it possible for me? Furthermore, shouldn’t we all consider doing it?

Unfortunately, this is sounding dangerously close to that horrible book that outlined the rules that women needed to follow in order to find their perfect mate. 

While I think that book is absolute garbage, there is something to be said for exploring one’s options before making a final decision.

When it comes down to it, I think about all the decisions I’ve made in haste over the years, some of which have been more detrimental than others.

I look back at these and remember how difficult it was and how long it took to reverse the damage done in a fraction of a second. 

Whether it was extra portions that lead to extra trips to the gym, or saying “I do” as opposed to “I think we need to work out some of these issues before we proceed,” the result was always me having to shift gears and try my damndest to get out of the quicksand before being completely enveloped.

I may not yet have the wherewithal, but whenever I should find myself back in the game, I’d going to make sure I am able to pull off a double-header.

Last weekend, I decided to take an impromptu break from reality and travel to the far away land of Philadelphia. I went to visit my friend Jennifer, who has, like me, had the great misfortune of being banished to the suburbs for the summer.

During the course of the weekend, I was reminded of our time together as struggling students. These memories led me to think about the future, and how I am handling the next chapter of my life.

Many of the associates I have made in the last two years have faded away. Most of them, I decided, were dead weight as I was headed into the future.

But that future has not begun to shine are brightly as I had anticipated when I moved to NY to attend school.

At times I wish it was a bit less of a struggle.

Sunday morning Jenn and I decided to go for breakfast, which was more of a task than either of us had anticipated. Apparently, the suburbs of the fifth largest city in the U.S. don’t unroll their sidewalks on Sunday until after 10 am.

Twelve dollars and a very interesting cab ride later, we found ourselves at the other end of the city in a diner that had every character you could imagine. Every possible character you could possibly imagine was a local at this joint, but the cream of the crop was our waitress, who had the two of us in stitches as soon as we sat down. Shortly after assuming our positions at the counter, our waitress caught one of the male patrons being less than subtle with his glances. Her disapproval of his behavior was all over her face. “I just hate the fact that men don’t even feel the need to be subtle about their attraction anymore,” she complained audibly. “A short glance is sexy, but just to ogle is downright tacky – and rude.”

Ah, the staring.

In my trips to the supermarket in upstate New York, I have noticed that men stare – a lot. We’re not talking a quick glance, either.

What does it mean to be single? I was recently asked this question by a girlfriend of mine who had just started seeing a new guy. I am reluctant to even call it “dating,” as they met at a friend’s shindig, and went out only one other time, with plans to go out again. As luck would have it, she has also finally managed to catch the eye of another gentleman (feast or famine, right?), a guy she’s been interested in for some time.

“Is it OK to tell the other guy I’m single?” she asked me. “And is it even okay to go out with the other guy?”

My answers to her questions were “yes” and “yes.”

As a woman who has the great fortune to have two very nice guys interested in her, and the bad luck that they should have come around at the same time, she should definitely, in my opinion, explore her options.

Although they are great guys, there is no guarantee that they are both great – for her. It’s very much like buying a car – you test-drive it before paying and taking it home.

While I know that I don’t have the savvy – or the energy – to pull off dating more than one man at a time, I don’t begrudge another woman for considering all of her options.

How does an unmarried woman turn into a housewife? It’s quite simple: She invades another person’s family. Okay, so it wasn’t an invasion. It was more like squatting.

Let me explain. After graduation, if not for the kindness of a friend, I would be homeless. With no job and no real savings, I moved in with my friend Jessica and her 15-year-old son.

Shortly thereafter, my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and tons of nervous and unchanneled energy more or less turned me into June Cleaver on crack. Now I cook, I clean, I look for jobs until I can’t stand it anymore, and then I go back to cleaning – the cycle goes on and on.

It’s just like being married: my friend goes to work (school, in this case), the kid goes to school, I do the domestic thing, they come home, we eat, catch up on each other’s days, and at night. The only difference ... and maybe it’s not even that different ... is that we don’t have sex.

The thing that strikes me as odd is how much of a departure my new life is from life as I came to know it for the last five years, and how quickly I made the shift. I guess this is how those that survive do – by adapting as quickly as possible.

This recession is seriously cramping my style, while simultaneously delivering a crippling blow to my self-esteem.

But at least the house is clean.

I appreciate all of those who seem to be committed in their efforts to finding me a man, but could you help me find a job first?

I am saying this because — well, let’s face it — I feel as if I’ve been pushed to.

More times than not, I have had people ask me in some form or another when I planned to start dating. Now that I am finished with school for the time being, many people see this as a time for me when I should to get back in the saddle, find a man, and ride him off into the sunset. But I would rather prefer to have a steady job rather than a steady beau.

But I am left to wonder, why do so many people place such a premium on being in a relationship – even at the expense of self-fulfillment?

It just seems irrational — and irresponsible — to try to land a boyfriend before landing a job. Would you splurge on a luxury vacation before paying your rent? I think not. So why waste time looking for a mate rather than look for a job?

Human beings are social animals. I know this — I’m a sociologist. I also know that there are basic human needs that we all have that need to be met, should we want to feel complete. Referring back to Abraham Maslow’s pyramid schematic, says that one would see that safety and financial security actually come before relationships and sexual intimacy. What I want to know is; why then do friends and acquaintances worry more about my romantic life than my professional life?  And when did the flip occur? Why is it that so many people seem to place the need of being fulfilled by others over self-fulfillment? Does it seem less embarrassing (or more interesting?) to say “Have you finally met a guy?” than “Did you finally find work?”

I am about a month into my new life — and I am slowly losing my mind.

Actually, it’s not that slow.

Since leaving school, I have traveled back to the West Coast to present some research, moved — to the suburbs, no less -- and have not managed to find a job. I cannot tell you how badly my nerves are frayed. If not for the fact that I am afraid of lightning storms, I would probably be able to run about 100 miles fueled by nervous energy.

I know life changes are not supposed to be easy. I have been through enough of them to know this is the case. But that doesn’t keep my insecurities from welling up and overriding my rational mind.

I think the thing that bothers me the most is that so much is out of my control. Nothing chafes me as much as being without a job. Living in a country where people are defined by what they do, (I’m an investment banker, I’m a teacher, I’m a dog trainer), doing nothing leaves them feeling like they have nothing, like they are nothing.

I hate labels, always have, but that doesn’t fill the cavernous hole in my soul that not having a job has created.

Um, survey says: no. 

For 13 years, I have been obsessed with the fact that I never completed my undergraduate degree. I always felt as if my life was somewhat incomplete because of this — as if I was half a person, and this, I think, shaped the way I allowed others to treat me, as well as how I treated myself. 

Now I am one exam away from completion, with the rest of my life now staring back at me. Problem is, now I have to redefine my entire existence. 

Same story, different chapter. 

I know that many of us have felt this way at one point in time or another; marriage, divorce, school, etc. All these things change how we view life and view ourselves. Oftentimes, with the same effort as flipping a coin or walking through a door, we go from one extreme to another, and are left to struggle with how to deal with our new situation. 

I have seen this side of the coin quite a few times, for different reasons (dropping out of school, entering and leaving the military, marriage, divorce, going back to school, etc.). I will just have to try to remember the tricks of the trade that allowed me to get through these trying times without getting weighted down or losing site of the bigger picture. 

Or better yet: without losing my mind.

In the span of three days, my gentleman caller has called — twice — and has sent three emails. Three of these correspondences came after I sent an email saying that I was trying to get through the end of the semester, and that I would call as soon as the madness was over. He sent an email acknowledging this.

Ten minutes later, he sent another email, followed by a phone call the next day.

Needless to say, I am no longer interested.

In my younger years, I would have seen this eagerness as sweet, cute, or some other innocuous gesture. Now I see it as a nuisance. This is a very stressful time for me, and I need to dedicate all of my energy to completing this task — a task that has already dragged on far too long.

I don't know if he was just overly excited, or if he just doesn't care about what I am trying to do — I really hate to think this is the case. Fact of the matter is, I see his behavior as a bit on the insecure side, and I am not attracted to that.

I am not quite sure how I am going to handle this. Exams will be over in a few days, so maybe I will check it out then. Problem is, after graduation, I will have a whole new set of priorities — job search and the like. If he doesn't understand that I need time right now, what will happen later?