An upcoming book to be published by Penguin Random House.

Autorentext

Serena Kerrigan

Klappentext

“A refreshingly honest approach to modern dating . . . Serena Kerrigan is the big sister you never had, and this book is the friend who grabs your hand and tells you like it is. Consider this your reminder to raise your standards.”—Paige DeSorbo, New York Times bestselling author of How to Giggle

From the content creator, entrepreneur, and voice that over a million women swear by comes the only dating book that will give you a hug and a slap in the face.

“I think I just need to be more chill.” “He said he didn’t want commitment and then got a girlfriend two months later.” “I’m running out of time.” “Everyone I know is engaged and I can’t get a second date.”

If you’ve said any of these to your therapist, your group chat, or yourself at 1 AM, this book is for you.

Let’s Fcking Date* is the dating bible for women who want love, have standards, and are done apologizing for either. With laugh-out-loud humor and hard-won wisdom from years of getting it wrong, Serena Kerrigan covers everything from building an unshakeable foundation on your own to making love actually last.

This isn’t another “just manifest the right person” book. It gives you real tools:
• The List: separate your non-negotiables from your ego and stop chasing the wrong thing.
• The 3P Theory: categorize every date as Potential, Practice, or Plot (so you stop overinvesting in Plot).
• The Roster: date multiple people without losing your mind or your morals.
• The F*ck No Funeral: a ritual for burying the situationship you should’ve ended three months ago.
• The Glue: what actually holds a relationship together when the newness fades (and you’re arguing about the thermostat).

You’re already the prize. Now act like it.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

Being Single F*s**

We’ve been sold this narrative that a relationship is the only social currency with real value. You could be winning in every category—health, wealth, and mental clarity—but the world doesn’t truly cheer until you hard launch your boyfriend. A grainy photo of a man’s hand at dinner is somehow treated as a bigger accomplishment than a promotion or a breakthrough in therapy.

When I ask someone, “Are you dating?” and they answer, “I’m literally so f***ing single,” it’s usually said with shame, like they’re announcing they’re behind on rent.

Being single is not a terminal illness. It isn’t a personality flaw, a diagnosis, or evidence that you are an incomplete protagonist waiting for a man to reboot your plot. It is the absence of compromise. Because do you just want a boyfriend for the sake of having one, or do you want to find your person? Any one of us could go out and find a seat-filler by next week if we were willing to lower our standards and ignore our intuition.

The problem is that no one throws a party when you cut off a toxic situationship. No one sends flowers when you finally confront the shit you’ve been avoiding. No one cheers when you choose yourself after years of chasing people who would never choose you back.

I got so sick of watching everyone else get celebrated for doing what they were “supposed” to do. So after one very eventful year, I said “f*** it,” and I made a registry for myself. I had just moved into my own apartment, was running a company I built from scratch, and had somehow managed to keep myself (and one very resilient plant) alive. I mean, hello? That felt worth acknowledging.

I made a list of the things I associated with “settling down”: champagne glasses, a fancy vacuum, and new sheets with a thread count that said, “I love myself more than any man ever has.” I went out and bought them myself. I didn’t need a registry to feel complete. I was just done pretending my milestones were lesser because they didn’t come with a ring or a sonogram. These were my wins, and you bet your ass I was going to celebrate them.

That’s when it hit me: Why was I waiting for a man to validate a life I was already killing it in? The relationship we have with ourselves is the one we live with the longest. But there were times when being alone felt like a deficit. But once I started celebrating my own wins, something shifted. I stopped seeing my singleness as a problem to fix and started treating it as a limited-time offer to figure out who I am with no one to answer to. I started choosing myself.

We have to stop treating finding a partner like the only metric for success. Because being single is not the pregame; it’s the main event. You do not start existing the moment a man recognizes you.

I learned this from my mom. After my parents divorced when I was two, she chose to stop dating. Not because she couldn’t get a date (she’s a catch), but because she was genuinely happy on her own. No one around us could grasp it. They whispered, questioned her sexuality, and wondered what was “wrong” with her. I was mortified. I actually filled out a Match.com survey for her when I was twelve—complete with my own “expert” analysis—convinced that if she just went on one date, she would be “normal” again.

I was too young to see what she had already built, and how radical it was. My mom did not need to perform femininity to feel valuable. Fulfilled by her work, her family, her friends, her books, and her own damn company—not missing a thing. She was the first real example I ever had of a woman who did not treat romantic love like a finish line. Now I finally get what she was showing me. The right person isn’t the missing piece. They’re just the cherry on top.

Learning how to enjoy my singleness looked a lot less like a wellness quote and a lot more like a curated playlist, a vibrator, and a mirror pep talk. That is the gift of being alone: No one is watching. You get to figure out what actually makes you feel good, without wondering if it’s “attractive” to someone else.

My Main Character Checklist:

☐ I took myself on a solo date to dinner like I was the main character (because I am).

☐ I spent an entire day being a tourist in my own zip code. No “What do you want to do?” loop, no compromising on where to eat, zero negotiating.

☐ I decorated my apartment like I was hosting a Vogue shoot.

☐ I masturbated—not just for the release, but to learn exactly what I need so I never have to settle for less.

☐ I talked to myself in the mirror until I actually believed what I was saying.

☐ I treated every sidewalk like a catwalk, because obviously.

☐ I invested deeply in my friends. Being single is easier when you have a core group of people who remind you that you’re already chosen every day.

☐ I poured myself into my family. I spent time with my grandmother, remembering that I am the payoff for every sacrifice she ever made.

These weren’t just activities to kill time. They became a declaration that my joy and safety are self-generated. I stopped looking for someone to fill the gaps and started looking for someone who could keep up.

You cannot choose well if you cannot be alone. Women who enjoy their own lives do not settle by accident.

There is a massive difference between being alone and being abandoned. One is chosen. One is not. I am not saying that being alone is always easy. I have sat in my apartment feeling gutted, calling my mom in…