Marathon Single

Year five has come and gone, and I have taken particular joy in yet another Valentine’s Day drinking daiquiris with my girl friends and crawling into my double bed with my dog and a plate full of pizza rolls. As always, I take this time that the rest of the country uses for celebrating their significant other to extol myself.

Sure, I haven’t locked down a man this year either. I’m solo, single, a loner. And there’s nothing like being offered free chocolate samples at Sam’s Club for the entire month of February to remind me of that.

“These are the best chocolates I’ve ever sold. You should buy some for your boyfriend,” winks the cordial sample lady in her early seventies after I have helped myself to four caramels from her cart.

“Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend,” I half-giggle. I already know exactly where this conversation is going. She looks concerned and asks me why. I tell her that I am just finishing college and haven’t had time to date. She gives me the look — you know, the one exclusively reserved for burn victims and young unattached females trying to discover who they are before permanently attaching themselves to another human who also has no idea where they will be in a year. My bad, lady.

“Well,” she starts, and I am too hungover to let this play out.

“Ma’am, I am just trying to buy toilet paper.” I walk away and start to feel a little guilty. I am just unable to hear “the speech” at this moment:

I was married at nineteen and spent the best 48 years of my life with Roger/Robert/Raymond; or,

You’ll find someone special and change your tune, just wait!; or,

So you say you’ve lived with the same roommate for three years? The young woman? And no boyfriend? Hmm…

I’m over it, people.

I chose to stay single in college for a few reasons. I think they are perfectly valid, and even if they aren’t, I don’t understand why people feel the need to be so fucking invested in my love life. Or lack thereof. But, because I am feeling particularly generous (and not because I owe it to anyone) I will explain myself.

  1. Bad relationship young, broken heart. This would be convincing alone, but I will go on.
  2. I have spent the last four years undertaking a very succinct to-do list: rock at school so I can be a lawyer when I’m big girl, make close relationships with friends and mentors, have an awesome fucking time. And I did them all. Adding a boy would have complicated this for me.
  3. Have you met any guys my age recently? I mean really and truly tried to have a meaningful conversation with a man in his early twenties? And you want me to hitch my wagon to one? I’m good, thanks.

For the most part, the apathetic reactions amuse me. I don’t flinch at the wounded puppy looks anymore. I don’t even mind being set up by everyone with unattached acquaintances. Please, keep the men coming. But don’t give me hell when I don’t want to see them again, and don’t call me “too critical.” I’m alone not lonely and I’m certainly not desperate. I have no intention of dating someone who shows interest in me for the sake of dating. I’m not going to start a relationship, just because.

I’m doing me right now. I know that’s so millennial but I don’t think this is something I will ever regret. I certainly haven’t so far.

So dear heart, if you are in love with a person who completes you, if you are currently bedding Mr. or Mrs. Perfect, if you’re halfway down the aisle… great. Fantastic. Good for you. I’ll be at happy hour with the rest of my blissfully eligible friends. Cheers bitch.

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