All around me, my friends are dropping like flies into the pool of relationships. I suppose when you’re perpetually single, it seems like this is always the case, but trust me; it’s even more the case now. Maybe it’s because we’re all getting older and the time for settling down is dawning on many a resigned party goer in my social circle. Maybe it’s because biological clocks are ticking (I keep hearing from guys that we women have these clocks – I don’t buy it – but maybe some women do?). But whatever it is that is happening to everyone around me…I’m immune to it.

I’m so good at being single that it actually scares me a little bit. I had steady boyfriends until I was 20 and then – suddenly – I just wasn’t interested in it anymore. I didn’t wanna be vulnerable anymore, I didn’t want to be the center of anyone’s life. I didn’t want to have to report back to anyone about what time I’ll be getting in. I didn’t want to have to share my bed anymore. I didn’t care if anyone loved me; I knew my friends and family loved me. I just didn’t…care. Everyone said it would pass, but it didn’t. I’m 24 now and the only boyfriend I’ve had in the last 4 years was a very short-lived long distance relationship, which I think I could only handle because of the distance.

I genuinely like being single. I like living for me. I like not mixing up my goals and plans with someone else’s. I like waking up alone. I like getting up and traveling to whatever city I want, at any time, without even thinking to discuss it with someone else. I love single life. Doesn’t anyone else?

(photo from: morningside8.com)

Today, while sitting in the salon in my hometown and having the prerequisite hairdresser chit chat with the guy who’s been doing my hair since high school, the old “so, you got a boyfriend?” question came up.

These days, I don’t even try to stop my chuckle when I answer, “nope”.

We talked a little about why my river has run so dry for so long, and as he ran his scissors through my bangs, my hometown hairdresser goes “well, it’s probably because you’re a real person.”

This is not the first time I’ve been called real. And it’s not the first time this “realness” has been connected to me being single.

What are we to surmise from this?

Does being real immediately put me in some kind of realness cage? A desolate place where people who can’t be anything other than themselves are gawked at by the rest of the fake society? Is being real like having some kind of horrible birthmark on my face — something that frightens potential suitors away with its blatant obviousness? Are we real people like the cyclops kitten; so weird no one wants to get too close but can’t exactly look away? Read More »

Obviously, there are tons of perks to dating someone: someone to snuggle with, someone to act silly with; someone to share the bed with (wink wink).

Building relationships, however, takes some time. Not time in the sense that it will take months before you feel comfortable with the person; time in the sense that there aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done and have wild passionate sex. That may not be so true for those of you still in school – getting to class/that meeting isn’t that important – but once you enter the real world, responsibility comes a runnin’ and finding the time for a relationship gets a little more difficult.

Take my friend, for example. He met an awesome girl. She is sexy, smart, funny and – as he felt the need to tell me – amazing in bed. In fact, after spending the night (on a work night!), said lady friend woke him up with a little taste of her bedroom abilities.

“That is the best way to start your day, Lauren.” He said. (Actually, he made some reference to the Folger’s coffee song, but it was so cheesy I didn’t want to repeat it here.) “But, I am a little mad about the morning sex because I couldn’t get to the gym.” Read More »

So, you’re single.

Do you embrace it, or bemoan it? Is it exciting, or just exhausting? Are you here by choice, or because you just can’t seem to land a good partner?

Society would like us to think that there’s only two ways to feel about being single; awesome and shitty. Either you’re a flirt who has no intensions or settling down or a depressed cat lady lighting shrines to the dating gods.

But maybe you’re both. Maybe there are times—watching couples fight on the street, cuddling up in a freshly made bed, spending a day shopping—when you’re completely fine with and happy about being alone.

Other times—finding yourself without plans on the weekend, seeing couples kiss on the street, sitting alone in your living room on a rainy Sunday—being single sucks the big one. Read More »

The other day I had brunch all by myself for the first time ever. One-hundred percent on my own. Without a book or a magazine, no laptop, no iPod, and certainly no friends in sight.

It wasn’t planned, exactly. I’d left the apartment with plans to meet a guy pal at our favorite cafe, until he frantically called me explaining that his dog had swallowed a tube of BenGay.

Of course I understood the dire need to rush his pooch to the nearest vet, but my growling stomach didn’t seem to share that same feeling of empathy. Knowing I’d have to order my usual strawberry pancakes on my own, I wondered if my fake could pull through and reward me with a mimosa or two. After all, look how independent I was being!

Sitting there at my table-for-one, having to stifle my urge to make conversation, (“So I got completely hammered last night and gave the bouncer my phone number…”) and repetitively forgetting there’s no one sitting across from me this cloudy Sunday, I realized how important it is to learn independence at a young age.

Sure, moving out and living life away from home for four (or five!) brilliant college years provide everyone with a fair lesson in self-sufficiency, but how independent are you really? Could you go out by yourself if you had to? I know I personally get antsy even having to meet someone at a party. Walking through a crowded dance floor trying to locate a friend or the keg (whichever one first) launches me into mini-panic attacks. Read More »