After years on match.com, a short-lived marriage/long date
and several 6-week-long relationships (seems to be my cut-off point), I’ve come
to the conclusion that I’m just not motivated enough to have a man in my life. The idealist in me is surprisingly realistic
on the subject: I’m happiest when I’m single.
Sure, I miss having someone take me in his arms at the end
of the day and whisper, “What’s for dinner?”
And when I’m outside sweating over heavy yardwork, I miss having my man come
outside to bring me a glass of water and ask, “Are you going to do any laundry
today? I’m out of socks.”
Maybe I’m happiest when I’m single because there is still the
dream that someone wonderful will come along and I’ll live even more happily ever
after. When I’m in a relationship, however, common courtesy demands that I not
dream about Mr. Wonderful. Apparently a
girl is obligated to hang in there for a decent length of time to see if this
guy could possibly work out, and maybe I should dial back on my expectations,
and smelling like an unwashed old man and eating his own boogers are not hanging
offenses, after all.
I have to admit that not having a man in my life makes it
very easy to maintain my pattern of starting and abandoning self-improvement
projects. A man would surely question the No Bake Cookies cooling on the
counter if I’m supposed to be on a diet. He would undoubtedly ask me if I took
my walk today or spent time writing. Being single makes it very easy to
convince myself that it’s too cold to walk and 3 little cookies never killed
anyone.
Still, it would be nice to have someone take me out to
dinner. Someone for whom I’m the most important person in the world. Someone
who tells me I’m wonderful. Someone who
gets me the most ergonomic snow shovel they can find and insists that I wear a
hat and good boots when I use it.
