Clearly, all the women around me--those who go through life choosing boyfriends, fianc s, and husbands as if they were picking which fruit to buy at the grocery store--received some kind of instruction manual that did not make its way to me. Someone must have deceived me at some point in time. If not, how can I explain that I am a 30-year-old woman, reasonably cute, sympathetic, and professionally successful, yet single? Why do I spend my Friday nights...