My Favorite Thing About Being Single

I was thinking the other night; thinking about being single. I immediately thought of my coworkers. The female 20-somethings whose tales of dating woes could fill volumes. There is one in particular; that girl in the office who for whatever reason keeps everyone updated on the extreme pitfalls of her personal life. A self-proclaimed maniacal slave to the dating life, she is by far the craziest of the bunch. However as I thought about my own decisions in this fair-weather game of Love & Hate, I found that my coworker’s jaded mental state is genuinely no fault of her own.

For being single warrants at least one upside (and it happens to be my most favorite): A defensible right to be completely and utterly BATSHIT FUCKING INSANE CRAZY. Because as Singles we are without reason. There is no logical explanation for our actions: the stern attention to our iMessages being read, acute knowledge of our lover’s Facebook history, the impulse to get blackout drunk and sleep with the first person we see because we didn’t receive a call or text before 6PM (and then 8PM, 10…12:30AM). The unequivocal hatred we have for those who couldn’t see the “real us” in the minutes before happy hour went a rye and our attitudes towards couples, at least the real happy type, with their PDA bullshit and promise of disease-free sex. It’s irrational thoughts such as these that motivate our fairly innocent atypical actions, often misconstrued as psychotic delusions and hysteria. But we didn’t get here alone.

Consistently forsaken by the ones who stole our hearts, we have no other option but to retreat to our inner sanctum stockpiled with booze, narcotics and some movie starring Morgan Freeman. It’s in these times of crisis our brain subconsciously projects a safer perception of reality making it easier to cope. For instance, waiting at a bar alone, two hours and six drinks later, simply means the other person is a super hero. Of course they would have been on time, if only they didn’t have to rescue a baby while helping an elderly person fend off an attacker en-route to stealing the world’s supply of Sriracha. Why is it so hard for some to comprehend that the reason they didn’t call the next day was because they were obviously at the hospital visiting their dying (pick one or all of the following): great-great grandmother/father, great grandmother/father, grandmother/grandfather, aunt/uncle twice removed, aunt/uncle, brother/sister of father’s second wife’s ex-brother-in-law? And only do the people we date have the most absolutely gorgeous “cousins” in their Facebook pictures. It only make us look better. It’s perfectly OK they have no clothes on, because they’re just cousins. All the reasons why we lash out in anger and humility when things go horribly wrong in what otherwise was a perfect relationship…for like two days. These are the thoughts of irrational people, and rightly deserved and celebrated by them as well.

I often try to think about how rational people might view the same situations. A rational person interprets what we see as betrayal as an honest dismissal of feelings; a polite exit from one experience to the next. To them no one has time to hash out a diabolical plan to upstage us in public and further diminish our self-esteem. For it seems that saying those three divine words to someone grants you a waking moment of clarity and the pride to tell Singles they’re wrong.

I’ve been in relationships before; I’ve been a rational person. Though I fear that as time progresses in this gulag of cruel intentions, I will succumb to my innermost, darkest desires to rage uncontrollably into the night. It is the very definition of insane to continue this course of action until we find someone and therefore further bestows upon us the right to lose our minds. It is, however, one I’ve greeted with open arms of embrace. For I want to wear this badge of honor proudly (just not on my genitals) when i I’m called upon, and become a beacon of hope for all those still in the muck.


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