The Testimonial of a Self-Proclaimed “Deeply Single Person”

There are a lot of words for what I am. Quirkyalone, independent, deeply single, emotionally incapable of a healthy, long lasting relationship… the list goes on. But I’ve finally come to a place in my life where I can honestly say that 95% of the time I would rather be alone. I would rather wake up in my bed, stretched out diagonally, taking up all the sheets and mattress rather than huddled with my corner of the comforter and worrying about morning breath. I would rather cook dinner for myself and have left overs for a week than share with someone who will eat their fair share and leave me with maybe one day’s worth of food, tops. I would rather struggle with 10 bags of groceries and 3 trips to my car parked a block away and have a sense of self satisfaction than call up my “knight in shining armor” to help me. I would rather wear pants for 2 weeks and not shave my legs. There, I said it. The jig is up.

I’ve always been a rather social person, but I also require a large amount of down time to level myself out. I need self reflection and quiet nights at home to reach a place in my life where I can function normally around other human beings. Candles are a blessing and inspirational books are a necessity in my life. It’s hard to reach this type of sanity when you are constantly in the arms of another person, wondering if he’s noticed your un-manicured nail beds and not-so-perfect skin. Udder madness if you ask me and not something I can stomach for very long.
I have this theory, for us “quirkyalones” as Sasha Cagen so lovingly named us. We’re not like the rest of the world’s women out there searching desperately of their soul mate. I have already found mine. They are my best friends. People of the opposite sex are just here for our amusement and when they aren’t amusing anymore, we shouldn’t waste another moment of our precious and sacred sanity on them. Don’t get me wrong, love is not a game and I don’t believe in toying with other people’s emotions. But when every night brings with it disappointment and that deep connection you yearn for so much just isn’t there, it’s time to light some candles and reevaluate some things.

I think there comes a point in any relationship where you have to shake yourself out of the denial you’ve been living in and realize that when he’s coming over to see you, you SHOULD be excited. And if you’re not, well that’s a bright red flag. And when you’d rather spend time with your friends 100% of the time and use them as excuses to distance yourself, well that’s another bright red flag. And pretty soon you have red flags coming out your ears and this “fairy tale” has lost its magic. It’s time for the talk.

But how does one go about this “talk.” The longest relationship I’ve ever had was 2 weeks, and the last breakup chat I had to do was through a text message. Wow, I’m really making myself look good here… The point is, “the talk” is never an easy one (and definitely something that should not be done electronically) and I have very little experience with it. So I have some options. I could be mature and direct. Sit him down; tell him calmly and maturely that things just aren’t what they used to be and that I think we are going different directions in life. Or I could write him a Dear John letter. This option has a lovely olde world, romantic charm to it. Like something out of Far From the Madding Crowd or a Jane Austen novel. I could buy a calligraphy set and pen something tragically romantic and depressing, leaving it on his door and giving it a kiss, as if I were kissing him goodbye, one last time… Or I can go the conniving route and get him to break up with me, which not only is less work for me in the long run, but gives me a solid reason to have a good cry and eat a lot of chocolate.

So for now I’ll surround myself with shiny happy things. I’ll put my feet in the grass and reconnect with the earth. I’ll remind myself that I am all I need to survive in this world and that having someone there beside me, while a blessing a truly something to be thankful for, will not save my life, or even make my life. Today is my life, and who knows how many I have left. I’d rather not spend them worrying about my nail beds or where to find a calligraphy set.