Hi, My Name is April, and I’m Single…
I hate being single. All I ever get to do is whatever I want. Ugh. It’s seriously the worst.
Why do people keep asking me why I’m single? Like they’re expecting me to answer something like, “Because I’m a raging bitch and no man will have me,” or “I will only date filthy rich men,” or, “I haven’t found a man yet with a dick the sized of a donkey’s yet, and will not settle for less.”
I am single, everyone, because I fucking want to be. That’s it. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. I have had two failed marriages. I’m super familiar with that entrapment of almost inescapable hell. The battle for control of power, the guilt trips, the jealously, the pseudo-parent. Fuck that shit, hard pass. Then again, upon much reflection, I realize I probably didn’t choose the best husbands.
But I am not without blame. See the common denominator in my failed marriages is me. Just as it takes two to build a relationship, it takes at least that many to destroy it. But it never seems so, does it? For instance, go out and talk to anyone. I mean anyone. Our ex’s ruined our lives. We all have an evil psycho ex. That asshole this- and that bitch that-. We’ve said it, we empathize with our friends and family who go through it. You’ll never hear someone say, “Man, I really hurt him/her. I fucked up.” Ok, maybe you might, but it’s rare. For the most part, those we once loved above anyone, who we bound ourselves to, who we might’ve dedicated our lives to and planned out future with… well, the gamble didn’t pay off. And yeah, it’s a gamble all right. It didn’t work out. Our once lover is now our enemy and they’re armed with all our secrets. All our belongings, everything that makes us weak and vulnerable, like our children. So, why do we do it?
Dude, I don’t fucking know! I absolutely have no clue. I know why we fall in love. It’s our stupid brains. Chemicals ensuring that we breed. When we are around someone we find attractive our brain is flooded with all kinds of feel good shit. First it starts with dopamine, and God damned don’t we love dopamine!! It’s why we love drugs, alcohol, chocolate, sex, pretty much anything that we become addicted to is because of dopamine. Norepinephrine; that’s a good one, too. Gives us a euphoric feeling while making us fell giddy and energetic. And if you’re to the point that you have insomnia and a lack of appetite? Fuck, dude… you’re so fucking in love. Go hang yourself. Then there’s Oxytocin, a “happy” hormone that also causes bonding between two people. That’s what makes us say stupid shit like, “I just feel a strong connection between us…”
No you don’t, bitch. You feel hundreds of thousands of years of evolution in your brain tricking you into fucking him so the species continues. But, I know… I know, I fell for it, too. It’s damn convincing shit.
So, I’ve taken this chemical roller coaster ride so many times in my life, it’s exhausting. And yet, still thrilling, I’ll admit. I date. I have sex (obviously if you’ve read prior blogs) These reactions happen to me, especially if I feel a strong “connection” with someone. But here’s the thing. I’m middle aged. I’ve been there, done that, and some may call me cynical or bitter. Some may say I remain single from fear. Maybe they’re right, I don’t know.
What I do know is that my entire adult life I’ve been married twice for a total of twelve years all together. I’ve had children for the last twenty-three years. I’ve been a mother since I was a child and when I turned forty it is the very first time in my whole adult life that I wasn’t someone else’s something. I’m not someone’s mother, wife, girlfriend, employee, boss… I am nothing to anyone. Obsolete to any obligation. Well, that’s not entirely true, I do have a two month old chihuahua that depends on me. Hey, it’s hard to quit cold turkey being needed, ok?
But I had to find out who I am. I had no clue. None. What I think about things, what I like. What I want to do. What I want for dinner. When do I want to go to bed. What do I want to watch on TV. What do I want to spend money on. What dose April want? Maybe some of you are still wondering these things about yourself with or without a relationship, I don’t know. I have no comparison for it. But it’s a new freedom for me. I’m not likely to give it up anytime soon, if ever. I don’t want to compromise anymore. I don’t want to argue about where I’m going and when I’ll be back and whom I’m allowed to speak with and whose turn it is to do the dishes this time, motherfucker, I live alone, it’s always my turn.
If my yoga pants are too tight, fuck it, I’m leaving the house that way. Look at my ass, look at it! Idgaf! I’ll cut my hair the way I want to. I’ll sleep in. I don’t have to remember what kind of deodorant you like when I go to the grocery store and I don’t have to feel like shit when I get a speeding ticket or I spent too much at Macy’s. Fuck it. I answer only to me. It’s a peaceful life. Yeah, I’m a little reckless, but I’m the only one who pays the consequences of my actions.
Thing is, I have way more consequences to pay. I’m way more reckless. I forgot to care for myself at times when it comes to eating, getting decent sleep, controlling my spending, making doctor appointments, and basically I’ll go days without showering cause, well, I can. Gross, I fucking know it. But is it worth my freedom to have a babysitter to basically make sure I don’t set the house on fire? Debatable, I say.
“But… but… but, what about when you get old, don’t you want someone there to care for you? You don’t want to die alone, do you?”
Listen, Margaret, if I’m old, good chances he is, too and I’ll end up caring for him, no thanks. And death isn’t a team activity. We all die alone. I may regret these words, but I doubt it… but it wouldn’t be the first time I ear my words.
“But… but… but, don’t you ever get lonely?”
You bet I do. And I don’t have a problem finding company when I so desire it. I just don’t desire it permanently. Everyone chooses what’s right for them. I’m all for it. As long as they’re not hurting themselves or anyone else, let people live their best lives. Live everyday like all of this is going to end someday, because news flash, it is.
What I do miss is companionship, cuddles, inside jokes, always having someone to tell my day about to, someone who will be there if I get a flat tire, the one person who will randomly text just to see what I’m doing and if I need anything. I even miss arguing over if the movie was good or what’s for dinner and getting mad when I wake up cold because he stole all the covers… but then makes it up to me all the time because he’s the one who always has warm hands. And being called beautiful even when I know I’m not.
And most of all… being loved, when I can’t love myself.
So, what the fuck? Being single is awesome. And being single really does suck goat scrode. There really is no better path to choose, or having your cake and eating it, too. (which, btw, I hate that phrase because wtf is the point of having cake if you’re not going to fucking eat it?)
What I’m getting at is that having the best of both worlds would be the ideal for me. Or something, at least, pretty fucking close to it, if it even exists.