So I am single, by choice, and totally committed to staying that way. For some reason it works for me. I've been in many a relationship, but I always end up weighing the pluses and minuses and it seems like going to bed early on Friday nights, or sitting in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn and a stack of chick flicks just trumps having to put on jeans, heels, doing my makeup and going to a restaurant to eat too much food and pay too much money for the privilege. Call me crazy, but sucking it in for four hours just makes me cranky.
And don't get me started about going to a bar. Just being in a bar gets my bitch-o-meter amped up. I have little or no tolerance for the mating game that is played out every Friday night. We all know about the skinny chicks that circle the perimeter of the bar like a lion stalks its prey, picking out the sorry sucker that's going to be duped into buying their drinks all night. These girls are masters at their craft and while they are entertaining to watch, once they've caught their prey it's like watching a documentary. If I'm going to watch someone get disemboweled, I would rather watch it on Grey's Anatomy and learn something while I'm vegetating.
And God forbid, that bar has a Karaoke. My cousins like to call it Krokey, like a frog. Maybe that is because most people sound like frogs when they sing on that thing, I'm not sure. But please, any of you who consider yourselves Karaoke experts, why does the most tone deaf, drunk, irritating and smelly man in the bar have to sing the longest song ever written by man... "In the Garden of Eden" by Iron Butterfly, or as it is better known by drunks everywhere..."Ina-godda-da-vida babyyyyyyy....*hiccup*" Please, can I rip off my nail beds now? Maybe you have some battery acid I could gulp down?
I have so many stories of why couple status doesn't appeal to me. These stories usually involve really bad personal hygiene (HIM! Not me...what are you thinkin'?) Lack of intelligent conversation (again, HIM not me...) or trying to escape his dog who wants to hump my leg. It is all so creepy I throw up in my mouth a little bit when I think about it. I'm surprised this doesn't come up more in therapy, but then again, my therapist has booked me through 2015, so maybe we will be touching on this at some time.
All I know is that for now, and now can mean anything from a nanosecond to a millennium, I am happy flying solo. I don't have to ask anybody to approve my budget. I don't have to fight about how the toilet paper should go on the roll. Like I would lose that fight! Jeez...I don't know a man alive that PUTS the dang toilet paper on the roll. Seriously? What is the challenge? I mean it takes about four seconds, involves roughly two muscle groups and almost zero intelligence...still, you would think I asked them to figure out a dang Rubik's cube. I don't get it...they say we evolved from apes, but even apes can put a toilet paper roll on the holder! I know...I've seen it on America's Funniest Videos.
Another thing that is great about being single is that I don't have to go to my committee of one to approve color choices for the kitchen walls, and I don't have to explain why I have twenty magazine subscriptions. OK, some of them admittedly are duplicates, but I'm sure I helped some child win a crappy prize in their schools magazine drive. So I have four tubes of the same shade of lipstick. Arrest me. And I guess the world is going to end because I like sea salt and hand made soap in my bubble bath? Who invited you anyway? So you see, single appeals to me because obviously, the only men who are dating right now are all critics.
I think that the best thing about being single is that I win all my arguments with myself, and if I ask myself if my butt looks big in my jeans, I always get the same response...What butt? You don't even have a butt girlfriend! You need to eat more! Where are those animal crackers and this time, eat the hippos!!! It's a great way to live, I'm just sayin'...
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