They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but hell, what do I have to hide? My life is an open book here, so let’s dish about my latest date-slash-adventure that had me fully appreciating my life as a single woman.

I met him on Facebook. I’d shared this post about The Narcissist, he read it, and then contacted me because it reminded him of his newly-ex-wife. She was more of a Borderline, but when you’re talking about bona fide personality disorders, it’s kind of like poodle mixes—they may differ in looks, details and nuances, but they’re all slightly similar beasts.

He called and we dished about our previous toxic relationships for two and a half hours. They also say not to talk about your exes with a potential love interest, but hopefully our conversation was healing for him. And for me? I got to listen to his charming southern accent long enough to become slightly infatuated.

We stayed in touch, and within a few weeks he invited me to join him in Vegas for an evening. He lived several states away from me (what the fuck with another long-distance love interest?), but he was going to be in Vegas for a conference and had an open evening. It’s a quick one-hour flight for me, so why not? I’m single, therefore, I’m free. If that includes catching a flight for a fun 24-hour stint in Vegas to meet a charming southern gentleman, all I can say is, “Let’s roll.”

Before I go further, let me say, this wasn’t just any guy. This was a dude who’d starred with his first wife in a Playboy video 20 years ago. A “real life couples” video. Playboy liked them so much they got to be on the cover of the video sleeve. And appear on Entertainment Tonight. Did I mention that he’d grown up in a deeply religious family with a mother who was devastated to learn of his 15 minutes of fame? Yes. There was that, too.

Later he and his Playmate-wannabe wife would divorce and she would go on to become a stripper (and, sadly, a drug addict), and he would eventually meet and marry the personality-disordered wife #2, who ended up cheating on him, having a baby with a much younger man, then begging him to take her back (which he did, like a big-hearted gentleman . . . for a while).

So I was going to be meeting a charming southern gentleman with a very colorful past. I couldn’t turn this one down. I mean, the closest I’d ever come to Playboy was rifling through the magazines my dad hid in his closet when I was 10. I was going to meet a man who’d made a sex video. I’m the girl who didn’t have (actual) sex till her wedding night.

I felt almost star struck.

So I booked my flight, flew to Vegas and met my long-distance former soft porn star. We talked more about our exes and toxic relationships, then about our kids and our jobs and the positive things in our lives. We played Batman and Robin at the slots. We drank fruity cocktails and he gave me his cherries (do not read any sexual reference into that, I love maraschino cherries). We went to a kick-ass piano bar. He introduced me to some friends from his conference. We had dinner at a delicious little Italian restaurant. And through it all, he was every bit the charming southern gentleman that I expected.

I was in Vegas for exactly 24 hours. I didn’t sleep much, but I had a hell of a lot of fun with an incredibly nice man. And then I flew home.

Will anything come from this? Not likely. I live in California and he lives . . . in not-California. Maybe we’ll see each other again. Maybe not. We text now and then, but it’s casual, flirty and light-hearted. Nothing serious.

But I met a great guy, and for 24 hours, dating was not a bitch. It was an adventure.

I hear single women complain often about feeling lonely and wishing for a boyfriend and worrying that they’ll never find love. I get it. I mean, I understand the yearning for connection and a fulfilling partnership. The hope of discovering a love so great, you can’t imagine your life without it.

But what if for one fleeting moment we chose to focus on what we do have instead of what we don’t? Like independence. And opportunity. And the chance to live your life on your terms without someone else (save your boss or your bossy kids) telling you how to live it.

There’s no man’s dirty underwear to step over on your way to the bathroom at 3:00 a.m. None of his smelly farts stinking up your bed. No whisker shavings creating a ring in your sink. Or battles over the remote or fights over how many football games are appropriate for one weekend. I mean, those things count for something, am I right?

There’s something valuable about spending time to cultivate one of the most important relationships you’ll ever have: the one with yourself. Too many of us ignore that opportunity, always searching, always looking, always longing for someone to ride up on that elusive white horse and sweep us off our feet.

What if we swept our own selves off our feet? Learned to love ourselves better? Said yes to adventure. Booked flights that seem slightly ridiculous. Took 24-hour vacations. Did things that brought excitement and fun and color into our lives. What if we were a little frivolous once in a while?

What if we treated ourselves as good as we would hope for a man to treat us?

Because here’s what I think: When we get busy enjoying our own lives and our own company so much that we forget about that stupid white horse and the figment of our imagination riding upon it, we may very well become magnets for good, dare I say great men. Healthy, well-adjusted men aren’t attracted to women who need them. They’re drawn to women who are so busy living their lives that they could live without them.

If you’re single, may you be so in love with your life that you can’t be bothered to wait around for someone to complete it. May you have silly adventures. And excitement. And frivolity. And fun rendezvous with colorful people who make you smile, whether it’s for a minute, an hour or a day.

And may you always know that you are utterly and beautifully complete. All on your own.

-Sienna