Loving the Lot You Got

At one of my many holiday meals, I talked with a single sista' of mine who couldn't stop talking about ready she was to be partnered. As I glanced across the table at my own loveliness of a relationship, I wondered what she was thinking. I quickly diagnosed my confusion as a symptom of the classic mental disorder of the grass-is-always-greener variety.

As we continued to talk, I smelled a familiar scent. Was it my own? Was it the cologne of a man long gone? A friend's smell? A professor's scent? Then, I guessed it right: it was all me from my days in high school and early into college. It was the stench of desperation in which I regularly bathed as a single Texan. The powerful memories inundated me as I remembered the days when I would prefer even the unhealthiest relationship to being alone.

Later that week, I played a session of solitary word association on the subway, and I noticed a change in my thinking. When I think "single," I don't think "lonely;" but, I used to. That was a time when "single" was a state to be seriously avoided. Sadly, my relationships were my supreme measure of self-worth. Now, when I think "single," a whole new vocabulary emerges: time, dancing, dating, sex, girlfriends, and the entire bed.

If my girlfriend only knew what she would miss! Sure, some of us non-singles try to have it all, going out with our partners and trying to look as fabulous as we did when we were on the prowl. Eventually, it all catches up with us. Without the promise of someone new, I too often lack the power to stay out as late as before. And, watching my weight is the first thing to be rationalized away. "If he loves me," I decide, "he'll have to love all of me, thighs and all."

Okay, so, I've done a decent job of asserting my independent personality in my current relationship, however difficult. But, it's been exhausting! We've fought about it; I've been disappointed. Honestly, not everyone is up for the work that a partner provides. It means more than never eating alone and regular sex. Naturally, "single" has taken on a whole lotta new meanings.

Not convinced about my word association proofs??? Try it now. When you read the word "bottle," what immediately comes to mind? Bourbon or breast milk?

If I'm glamorizing the single life, please know that I am just as biased as a divorced homemaker-turned-typist. It's all about where you've been and you're heading. If I think hard enough, I too can remember what "single" felt like. Who wouldn't understand the dimensions that get a gal down? I think that I'd miss knowing whom to call first, never showing up alone, having someone to take in a movie with, sending someone to the impossibly crowded bar for another drink, sharing a bed with someone who snores louder than you do, and laughing in the morning when you'd otherwise be silent as you prepare to face the day.

When I see such anticipation for love in the eyes of my girlfriends, I just want to jump in and help out with some worldly wisdom. Slowly, I'm learning that I could do everything short of introducing my single gals to all the guys I've dated, and still, they wouldn't get it. Relationships look great on TV, on the sidewalk, or (God forbid) at weddings, but the work necessary to keep relationships running is more taxing than paying for gasoline while Bush bombs half the Arab world.

I say generically, "To each her own." You paired? Then, love the man while you can; it only gets easier as we approach senility. If, for the moment, you find yourself single, love it while you can. Like youth, being single is more fleeting than a perfect summer vacation. Before you know it, "I" becomes "we," and he becomes more than even Cinderella ever bargained for, like the fine print or something.