By Sonja Rasula
So this is it. This is the “Love and Sex” issue, filled with pages of erotic, flashy photos and tantalizing stories. Ha. For me, this is an issue that screams, “You’re still single, lonely and pathetic.” Love? I wish. And sex? It’s been so long, I’d probably have to look it up to recall its meaning.
I’m not complaining, it’s just that there are definite benefits to having that significant other. Being single means you don’t have anyone to cuddle and “spoon” with.
Being single means you don’t have anyone to keep an extra toothbrush on hand.
It means not having that special someone who, when you call drunk at 4 a.m., forgives you. And it means having to answer your mother’s questions on why you are still single.
“Yes, I’m brushing my teeth at least twice a day. Yes, I change my underwear. No mom, I’m not hiding anyone from you. No, I’m not attracted to animals!”
Being single also means having to deal with the whole Valentine’s Day drama.
Us single swingers get to watch hundreds of couple parade around kissing and hugging carrying flowers and giving boxes of candy — which of course just makes us want candy, which we end up buying for ourselves.
The next day we wake up surrounded by a half-empty, now-melted ice cream container, an empty box of Godiva chocolates, the remains of a bag of cinnamon hearts, the spotless plastic wrapper from Pillsbury chocolate chip cookie dough and what looks like crumbs from a piece of chocolate cake.
Being alone on Valentine’s Day means standing in line at a store and being surrounded by happy customers with arms full of boxes of candy, cards and flowers for their loved ones… you look down at your empty arms and see a bottle of shampoo.
Of course there are also some advantages to being single. Ummmm… hold on, I know there’s gotta be one… oh! Total power of the remote control to the television.
Being single is great, if that’s what you want. Of course, if it’s not what you want you find yourself thinking that anything with a heartbeat is attractive. You find yourself watching way too much Oprah.
You find yourself listening to music and hearing the words “I’m so lonesome I could cry.”
And you find yourself writing an article on being single, because hey, what the hell else are you gonna do?
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