I'm single. And no, that's not something that needs "fixing". I like being single. I've always liked being single. Sure I occasionally cave to the constant and daily pressures of coupledom and agree (a couple of times even actively sought out) to become half of two. This always makes me a little sad, to be half of two rather than the whole of one, but in the beginning that is completely overshadowed by that "new boyfriend smell". The promise of frequent sexual escapades, the fun of discovering diet preferences and degrees of alcohol tolerances (both personally ingested and as observed in your partner).
After a while though the shiny starts to wear off and then the slow slide starts. One of you begins to think your sexual escapades are too frequent, or discovers that what was fun in the beginning is getting tiresome to keep up with. Then it really starts to irk her that he calls twice a day and seems really put out if she doesn't have anything new to say; and he's stewing up a little resentment because she didn't like his mother's chicken. He won't wipe his shoes and she decides to go vegan and the whole thing goes to hell in a hand basket.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not at all advocating singleness as a lifestyle for everyone, and I'm not saying that all relationships are doomed to eventual failure, and I'm not talking about love because love is something completely different. (However I have met more than a few couples who don't need to be together. Maybe they've run their course or maybe they never should have made the commitment in the first place. Whatever the case they're fun to watch when you're not sitting at the same table.)
I thoroughly enjoy being single most of the time. I loved shopping for a house with only my needs in mind. I honestly love hanging out with myself. I love doing stuff with my friends and not having to worry about how good a time my boyfriend is having. I love planning things for myself. Most of all though, I love sleeping alone. Not even the promise of frequent sexual escapades can make me share my bed for very long. I love sprawling across the bed and taking all of the covers and pillows. There is absolutely nothing about sleeping alone that I don't love.
But every once in a while... once in a blue moon I find myself pondering the what ifs and thinking, however briefly, that it might be nice to have someone around. When I returned from Costa Rica I had such a thought. I had been travelling for roughly twenty hours. I showered in a blissfully warm shower and crawled between my exquisitely cool 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and arranged my six goose down pillows and settled in for a peaceful sleep. Just as I was drifting off I thought "wouldn't it be nice to have someone to come home to, I could use a foot rub."
Did you catch that? I had just returned from a tropical vacation with my friend and at no time did I ever think I would like to share that vacation with a boy. Nope. Not me. I wanted some one at home, eager to rub my feet.
Today my neck hurts. It would be really nice to have someone to rub it. When I'm sick or injured and in need of a caretaker, that's when I really think it would be good to be half of two.
Maybe that's kinda fucked up.
