Flying Solo

So the good news is that I'm feeling better. Much better actually. The bad news is that I still had to use a little Icy-Hot this morning on my ribs, which means that it will burn a little in the bathtub tonight. I'm ok with that, though. At least I'm not feeling the urge to moan pathetically and write an entire blog post about how much pain I'm in. We can all be thankful for that.

As for the dating update, I don't have much to offer. Dr. Man ignored my text on Friday asking if we were still on for Saturday. I haven't heard from him, especially since I turned him down when he asked for some scantily clad photos. I just wanted to say to him: "Look. There are many nice women out there who would probably be more than happy to take pictures of themselves in their bra and underwear. I'm just not one of those women. You should find one of them." Apparently, he did, or at least he stopped talking to me. Either one, maybe both. I don't consider it a particularly large loss, even if it was fun getting text messages from him throughout the day.

I went on a date with an acquaintance of a friend (actually, it was Jory for any of you who remember the catchy nicknames I give people on my blogs) on Saturday. It really wasn't the best idea, considering that I had to make most of the conversation and I've been sucking at small talk lately. He was able to very perceptively figure out when a dark thought crossed my mind about the futitility of dating. He asked what was wrong, which I thought was very sweet, even if we had nothing else in common outside of that moment.

It all got me to thinking about being single. As P. often notes, I don't praise the virtues of life alone often enough (if ever). As I was pulling on a pair of fleece socks last night, to complement my cotton nightgown, I was feeling triumphantly single. I tend to think that people look rather silly in socks while naked. Even if I don't plan on getting naked, I will hardly ever go to bed with someone in socks. That all changes when I'm alone. When I'm all by myself, I'm all-socks, all-the- time. I never have to worry about feeling sexy or sultry in fleece socks, particularly since fleece socks are appropriate for New Hampshire and are fairly riduculous in Texas. I can't explain why my toes don't seem to recognize seasons or humidity, it's just something that I've come to accept. I love that when I'm single I don't have to convince anyone about why this phenomenon occurs. It just does.

While driving to work today I brainstormed some other benefits to not being in a relationship. Here's a working list of what I came up with:

1. Never having to listen to someone else fart unless they let one rip in public and I happen to be standing near by. I also don't have to worry about holding one in - ever.
2. Only choosing to listen to friends tell me about their day, usually only when one of us calls the other.
3. Rarely shaving my legs.
4. Eating food directly from a box, bag, or carton. Sometimes I go for weeks without cooking.
5. Getting my bed all to myself between the hours of 9pm - 4am. After 4am sometime, Zac comes into my room and promptly falls asleep on my head. Before that, I get to do whatever I want in whatever direction I want to do it in.
6. Going on unique and always entertaining blind dates. How many people in relationships can honestly say that they've ever had an entire conversation with a stranger about how to make Star Wars bodyarmor out of molded plastic? Really.
7. Never feeling bad for accidentally missing a day of birth control and never having to buy pregnancy tests.
8. The multi-faceted joy of celibacy.
9. Only cleaning when I have to, which occasionally means leaving my laundry lying out in the middle of my bedroom for a couple of weeks at a time.
10. Having the time to focus on friends and maintaining my friendships.
11. Reading for hours at at time at night after Zac has gone to bed.

That's what I've come up with so far. Like I said, it's a working list. I'll be sure to update it as something else comes to me.