As a single woman trying to participate in the dating scene, I have to stop and ask, "Why does this have to be so difficult?" You can probably guess from the slight whine in my tone that my current dating situation is pretty pathetic. During one of my usual gripe sessions with the girls, however, I heard what could be construed as solid advice from a rather flamboyant, mature and brilliant friend of my cousin's who piped in and said, "Honey, all you need to attract a man are great cleavage and red lips." On the surface, this sounds fairly straightforward, but we all know that beneath the surface lies an entirely different matter. It can't be that simple. Yet, to be open-minded and fair, I'll examine the cleavage-lips theory first.

Using myself as a test subject: I must say that I have amazing cleavage. It has received honorable mention from many a man, some that I've dated and some that were complete strangers who felt compelled to comment. Furthermore, I've been informed that my "kazubas" are officially lesbian approved (don't ask). As such, thanks in part to under wire, fabulous cleavage is clearly not my problem.

On to the red lips: I boast full lips befitting an Italian woman that frame a big smile complete with white teeth. Men have also felt compelled to inform me that my lush lips provoke fantasies not suitable for print. So, if great cleavage and red lips are all there was too it, I should be the Dating Diva of the World (picture me laughing hysterically). I hold firm that there's more to it.

Taking the self-test further, I'll be brutally but constructively honest. I'm 5'6" tall, full figured without being overly huge, dark auburn brown hair, greenish-brown almond shaped eyes and take care of my appearance starting with clean hair, brushed teeth and deodorant.

I've had men say I was too fat (may they rest in peace), and men who thought I was the sexiest thing they've ever seen. I've had men look at my bottom lip with the same longing that crosses my face when I'm contemplating doing a line of Oreos, and men who don't even notice. I've had men who think they hit the jackpot because I'm a poker playing football fan with boobs, and men that think it's great to have a female friend who actually knows a flush beats two pair, and it's not a puck that goes between the uprights on Sundays.

I never ask men if my butt looks big in my jeans (we all know the answer, so why ask?). I don't subject men to the agony of sitting through chick flicks because I'll go with my chick friends' thank-you-very-much.

As such, I ask, "Why can't an attractive, curvy, intelligent football loving, poker playing woman with great cleavage and red lips get a date?" There must be more to this philosophy.

About now, most single men reading this are wondering where they can get my phone number. Here in lies the catch ... those men can't see me. Now, it's not a matter of ugly; we covered that. It's a matter of literacy. Ladies, we all know that after uttering the phrase, "I do," the then domesticated male animal is rendered completely illiterate. You can tattoo "take out the trash" on your bare butt, dance naked in front of him, and he still won't get it because, simply put, he can't read. But, the senses of the hunter species are sharp and focused. As shocking as it sounds, prowling men seeking their great-cleavaged, red-lipped prey can read. So, just exactly what is he reading?

The message tattooed across your forehead.

After much soul searching, I've come to the conclusion that the message tattooed across my forehead probably isn't what the playful, horny hunter wants to read. As a hard-working woman who spends too many hours a week making sure other people's problems get solved and they successfully get from point A to point B only to complain about the voyage, I get tired.

I go home, shower, fluff the hair, wrangle the ladies into under wire submission ( great cleavage...check), apply the lip-gloss ( red lips...check) and head out to meet friends. Of course, it's in a place packed with hunters.

After laughing with my friends for a while, I start to relax because some nice person I'm quickly falling head-over-heals in love with brings me food I didn't have to cook on dishes I won't have to wash, and ... ahhhh ... suddenly, the shrill of the cell phone and the blaring caller ID denotes the proverbial "my life's over if you don't fix this now!" call from the helpless boss. Knowing he'll live to see tomorrow, I ignore it, utter a curse under my breath and look up just in time to see a rather attractive hunter reading the message tattooed across my forehead that says, "What in the hell do you want?"

Sexy don't you think?

He gets the message loud and clear, checks out my great cleavage, momentarily fantasizes about my red lips and moves on to decipher the next prey's forehead.

I'm not alone. Going around my table of friends for example: Tracy has "I'm happily married!" nauseatingly tattooed in all caps. Monica has, "going thru divorce; approach and die." Then, there's Kay with "training new puppies, no time to train you," and Karen has "own a good book and batteries, go away," tattooed across her forehead.

What an attractive bunch we make, uh? Yet, we still wonder why we can't get dates!

I do understand the ridiculous nature of this situation and that it's ours to remedy. Since we still want to be hunted, how do we overcome the problem? No, ladies, bangs won't help. The only solution I can think of (and keep in mind that I'm not a licensed therapist, I just pay them a ton of money) is to change the message. Let me hear your collective, "duh!"

I'm going to venture to guess that changing the message means changing our internal feelings about men and what we want and expect from the hunter (won't my therapist be proud?). Perhaps if we stop focusing on the negative, the more positive wants and needs of our inner selves will seep to the surface. Stop laughing hysterically and bear with me. I did stipulate that I wasn't a licensed therapist, didn't I? I also realize the dichotomy of wanting and expecting anything from a hunter, but hope must run eternal or all that's left is sole control of the remote and batteries ... um ... maybe ... okay, never mind.

Perhaps we should give men a break.

After all, there are men out there that do their own laundry, take care of their kids, don't expect sex on the first date, will hold the door for you as well as the person behind you, and of most value ... they put the toilet seat down. So, focusing on what's possible will bring positive messages to the forefront or forehead as the case may be.

Decide what you want from the hunter, know it's possible and concentrate ... HARD.

How many of you out there think I'm in complete denial and have lost my mind? That's what I thought. Oh hell, let's face it ladies, if we want the hunter to capture us, we need to fake it, tattoo the words, "I want sex!" across our foreheads and then decorate the message with great cleavage and red lips.

Maybe my cousin's friend wasn't so far off the mark after all.