Why I’m Still Single

“How is a great girl like you still single?”

The question caught me completely off-guard. You’d think that being single as long as I’ve been, I would have heard this question and its variants a few dozen times or more. But no. This was the first time anyone had ever asked me. I suppose most people do wonder but are too damn polite to say anything for fear that it will hurt my feelings. With the wrong vocal inflection or phrasing, it could come across as “What’s wrong with you that you’re not married and squirting out babies already? Don’t you know that you’re blazing right past your prime, you old bag you?”

Thankfully, the person who made the inquiry was asking because he seems to think I’m some kind of catch and that it’s just weird that nobody would have snapped me up by now. I’m sure there’s a definite undertone of “So…are you a psycho or something?” but for the most part he’s genuinely perplexed by the idea that I’ve not been snapped up already.

You won’t believe this, but I actually had to sit down with a pad of paper and my favorite black Cristal Bic pen and brainstorm an answer. I guess that I really hadn’t given it much thought, though it has definitely been a conscious decision to remain single for so long (almost six years). It’s also a decision I’m glad I made because for a while there, a dangerous pattern was emerging in my struggle to find joy with another person. I was like a shanty-town squatter, erecting a false front of happiness on one derelict relationship after another. Suffice it to say, my judgment when it came to men had been very poor up to the point where I called it quits.

The breaking point for me was engaging in a relationship with a guy whom I had liked for years. He’d previously admitted to liking me as well, and so I gave in and handed my heart to him wrapped in a pretty red bow, a mistake that I would spend the next five or so years rectifying as I struggled and fought to get my heart back. Because I don’t know exactly what went on in his head at the time, I can’t for sure know if his feelings were real and he got cold feet or if he just wanted me for the booty call. One of these days I will have enough gumption built up to ask him for an explanation. For now, I’m OK not knowing.

After that, it was all pretty much downhill from there. I tried again and failed miserably at the game of love a year later, at which point I was so depressed that I actually couldn’t be bothered to shower for days on end. My coworkers may remember this time as “Amanda Sure Wore Her Hair in a Ponytail A Lot, Didn’t She?”

And so I cut myself off. From men. From women. From dating. From sex. Trust me, it was safer that way. The unexpected benefit of this was that as I slowly dragged myself back out of the mire, I got to focus on me for a change. I spent more face-time with good friends, I regained my appetite for devouring books by the boxload, I explored about a dozen new and different hobbies that I’d never taken the time for. Best of all, I finally took my education to the next level, because I was ready for a change. Without a relationship or even dating to distract me, I was able to focus on my studies and excel in a field I’d wanted to pursue since the tender young age of twelve.

During my hiatus from dating, I put out enough of a “fuck off” vibe that it was rare that I would be approached by anyone. Yeah, flirting took place every now and then, but it seemed more of an abstract concept to me than a social norm. I have pretty eyes? Yeah, that’s awesome. Now where did I put my chemistry book?

I think, though, that it’s finally time to lift my Manda Quarantine and tromp out into the world to explore some possibilities. I have five months of school left, I’m taking a short break before grad school, I’m financially comfortable enough to become independent of my current living arrangement, and really…why not now? Nothing is going to change so much in the next six-nine-twelve months that it would be prudent to wait any longer. Amanda is back on the market and the realtor’s sign is staked out on the front lawn. Open for business, boys and girls. Get me into escrow while you can!

So there you have it. I’m not really broken. I don’t know that I ever really was.

They make these power supplies for your computer containing a type of fuse that, when a serious electrical issue arises, will blow and shut the entire unit down in an act of self-preservation. It then repairs itself and, once the danger has passed, returns good as new. Damage was done, fuse was blown, danger has passed. Here I am, good as new.

Feel free to jot my number on a few bathroom walls to show your support.