There comes a time in every single girl's life when she must confront the fact that someone is calling her out for being single. It happened to me a few nights ago when I was having dinner with two female friends. Luckily, they are friends, and I know they have my best interests at heart. I know this even when one of them has a momentary...slip in rationality.

At the time, we were discussing New Year's Eve. See, we've spent New Year's Eve together for the past two years; if we spend this one coming up together, it will be our third. Last year Mary had her boyfriend with her and Jen and I were single. This year Mary has a different boyfriend, and Jen has a boyfriend, too.

Apparently Mary thinks they should invite their boyfriends along to whatever we decide to do for New Year's Eve (which is absolutely fine), and she kept asking whether I think I could find someone to complete a third couple -- you know, so I wouldn't be by myself. "Maybe you could invite [blank] or [blank] or [blank]," she suggested.

As these suggestions were being made, this was my thought process:

1) It's not all that difficult for me to find a date. If I want a date on December 31st, I will seek one out. But would I invite someone I'd just met to hang out with my girlfriends on New Year's Eve? I most likely would not.

2) I would much rather hang out with two couples than invite a date just for the sake of not being "alone." I can talk to anyone. As long as the couples aren't making-out and ignoring me all night, I'm sure I would have a fine time.

3) I love these women, but I don't have to hang out with them for the third new year in a row. I've already received an invitation to attend another friend's party, so there's a chance I'll end up doing that instead.

But really, the biggest thing going through my mind was the most obvious: we live in a major metropolitan area. There are a lot of single people here. We are awesome women who know that we are awesome whether we're by ourselves or with someone else. If I decide that I want a date to help me ring in 2010, so be it. But between now and then, what I'll do is make a decision about what I want to do that night and take it from there.

Would I like a date for New Year's Eve? Honestly, I don't care. If I meet someone who I think is fabulous before then, sure, having a date would be fine. But I don't see a date on that night being any better than a date I would have had the previous week. I don't place any emphasis on having someone around just to keep me company on some supposedly-momentous evening.

Because, you see, I know that I rock. If some man gets to spend time with me that night (or any other night), he's the lucky one. Some women tend to forget that, but really, knowing that you rock is really all that matters.

Related Reading:

Kris recently turned 36 and was happy to realize that she enjoys being a 30-something unmarried woman.

At 36, I’m proud to say that I’m a different kind of norm. You know the details: the two cats, the rented apartment in the city, the wine bought at a DC corner store. But there’s something empowering about the number passing these lips: thirty-six. You see, I no longer have to engage in drama that saps energy I could use for more productive things. I don’t want to go out on a particular night? I can say it. I can eat Baked Doritos at 5 am on a weekday while watching the morning news, and there isn’t a soul in the world to whom I need to answer. My extended family is a rich community of real-life and Interweb friends, half of whom I don’t see more than once every few years. I don’t have to spend money on what someone else thinks I should.

When Lisa was single, she wrote that the loneliest holiday is not Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Valentine's Day -- it's Halloween.

The Canuck Girl laments her single status as the holiday season approaches.

(Contributing editor Zandria blogs at Zandria.us.)