Singles

I was sitting at lunch the other day with a friend of mine, and he said, “I don’t understand why you don’t have a boyfriend. You look like you should have a boyfriend.”


“I know!” I responded. “I totally do!”

Actually, I didn’t say that, but I understood his point, which was, “You are not completely wretched, so I don’t understand why at least some guy wouldn’t want you.” And that is true. There are far more wretched women with far more boyfriends than me. But here is the difference:

“I don’t really want one,” I said to him. I know. It’s crazy that I live in this world and resist the idea of being coupled up, but my mother’s side of the family has generations of spinsters weaved throughout the family tree, so I’m guessing it’s genetic. So, in honor of my aunt Mary, my aunt Mary Ellen, my aunt Cecelia, and all of my other Irish spinster relatives, here are the top five reasons why I’m just fine the way I am:

5. The baby ship has sailed. Well, it hasn’t exactly sailed, but it has been dismantled, and it’s not being put back together. Sometimes, when I want to torture my nearly 20-year-old son, I tell him that one day I’m going to give him a baby brother or sister. Then we laugh and laugh. I completely support the school of thought that children need two parents. Not because I think a traditional family is better than a non-traditional one; because children are a two-person job. Luckily for me, it’s a job I never intend to have again in my life, so I don’t need a man, either for his mediocre genes (I mean, let’s face it, I will always have the superior gene pool) or for his baby-raising capability.

4. I don’t feel a sense of accomplishment by being coupled up. Let’s not pretend that this doesn’t happen. Just like parents think that their child’s prowess on the football field or straight A’s are a direct reflection of their ability as a parent, men and women think the attractiveness/value of their significant other is a direct reflection of their own worth. I don’t. I met a lady once who mentioned at least five times in one day that her husband was a college president. I was like, “Is it Yale? Because if it isn’t Yale, I’m not impressed.” It wasn’t Yale. I wasn’t impressed.

3. Couples are annoying. I’m sorry. That’s a gross generalization. It’s not all couples. Many couples are fine and mostly unannoying. But there is a specific kind of couple where the woman is bossy and in competition with her friends about who can a) get married first, b) have a baby first, c) buy the nicest house, d) become a stay-at-home-mom first, etc. etc. The guys, you can tell, are sleepwalking through the whole thing, glad that their real mommy has been replaced by their wife mommy. I know myself; I am one of the bossiest, most competitive people I have ever met, and I would crush these men. I don’t want to crush anyone.

2. My sweatpants would miss me. There is nothing I love more than sitting on my couch, staring dumbly at reruns of Hoarders, while wearing my giantest pair of sweatpants. I don’t get nearly enough couch/sweatpant time as it is, and being coupled up would eat away further at that precious, precious time. I've never been one of those people who hates to be alone.  I grew up in a house with a million people in it; I LOVE to be alone. Furthermore, I do my best blog-writing in my sweatpants (I’m wearing them right now!)

1. I don’t ever – EVER – want to be told what to do. Sometimes, when my friend Julia says something innocent to me, like, “Have a good weekend!” I respond, “Don’t tell me what to do.” I HATE being told what to do, and part of being coupled up means allowing someone else to tell you what to do - be it pretending to like his horrible work friends, or shaving your legs. I shave my legs all the time, but when someone else wants me to do it, I immediately become resentful, and want to grow a forest. I hear all the time about something psychotic called a “Honey Do” list where people ACTUALLY MAKE A LIST OF CHORES FOR SOMEBODY ELSE LIKE THEY ARE DEALING WITH HIRED HELP OR A 14 YEAR OLD. That is the craziest, grossest, most awful thing I can imagine, and I never, NEVER want to be in a situation where somebody wakes up and makes a list of things for me to accomplish. I swear to God on a holy stack of Bibles, I would make that person eat that list.