Fast forward to the present day and you will find me, still fabulous, still funny, and still soul wrenchingly single. The single life is great, I won’t mess with you. Doing whatever I want, whenever I want is pretty amazing. Except for when what I really want to do is lay on the couch with a man who is in lottle with me, start a new season of some crap show (I hear Orange is the New Black is pretty decent), and have my hair played with. Those are the kinds of things that you don’t get to do when you’re single. (I just pictured myself wrapped up with one of those ‘boyfriend’ pillows watching tv while playing with my own hair. Please laugh with me, not at me. Should I ever sink to this level, I will cry and someone slap me, please).
I know today’s date shows up on these posts, but just because I feel I need to be dramatic… It’s a foggy Friday night, in the middle of October. Did I go out dancing with the girls? Nope. Did I carve pumpkins with a boy and watch scary movies? HA! Did I take in comedy night at Hecklers? Nein. Did I volunteer at the SPCA and play with puppies all night? I wish! Did I drink wine and read a good book while listening to jazz music? Not even close. I ate an entire small Veggie Mediterranean pizza with two dippers to myself. While watching Law & Order: SVU. #winning. None of those three things separately bother me. Friday, awesome; Pizza, super awesome; and if you don’t like Law & Order: SVU you’re lying to yourself. But combined, they make me feel like I should rescue a cat or seven.
I’m not lonely, and rarely am I ‘alone’. I don’t get much down time, working seventy-ish hours a week, so when I do and end up watching tv (on a laptop because I don’t have cable), in flamingo print pajamas, eating 3.2 pounds of pizza (I weighed myself before and after) for six hours, a girl starts to wonder about herself.
All of us poor single folk get the “single funk” every now and again. Don’t pretend you don’t know what this is. For anyone who is lying to themselves or who has been in a relationship too long to remember: this is when we hate being single and curse the opposite sex, ourselves, our parents, our city, the weatherman, that dog that didn’t lick your hand because he clearly smelled your desperation, or basically anyone or anything that is in our way. I, thankfully, haven’t had a moment like this in a while. I hope I’m not due. They never go well and I definitely always write an ex or two. Yay me! (That was sarcasm).
Tonight is not the night for me to have a single person funk. I love life. I love that I get to go to bed and fall asleep in the middle of my bed; I love that I ate an entire pizza and didn’t have to share; I love that I don’t have to worry what my breath will smell like in the morning; I love that should I have an insomnia attack in a few hours, I don’t have to worry about waking anyone up with the lights on; I love that tomorrow, when I finally wake up (on my own schedule), I get to do whatever the eff bomb I want to (until my PT appointment at noon, then that meathead gets to boss me around). I think the important thing is that I love MY life… I just hate dating.
Lesson’s learned tonight: Munch retired , you will gain over three pounds from eating an entire small pizza, my pajamas are too big (in spite of said pizza eating), I can go an entire Friday without wearing a bra or drinking alcohol, there is such a thing as the ‘boyfriend’ pillow (see below), and it is completely possible to be in bed before midnight on a Friday.