Don't Call Me Marge: 4 Reasons I Love Being Single

Some of my friends seem to think that I insist on staying single because I've been horribly scarred, and can never trust a man again. They probably gossip about it over tea, while I'm out doing something more interesting, like getting laid.

Some of my detractors seem to think that I don't, in fact, insist on being single, but have been forced into it by being so “bitter” and “caustic.” Like, you know, I might burn a dude's d*ck off just by looking at it, or something.

Laser vision -- I HAZ IT!

If I were a good person, apparently, I'd only ever attract good people. Bad people would stay well clear of me because I would emit some sort of mysterious anti-d*ckhead pheromone. Clearly, “my issues with men begin within.” Yeah, somewhere around the area of my backbone.

It never seems to occur to anyone that maybe I like being on my own. Cause, you know, it has its perks. Such as:

1) FREEEEDOOOOOOMMMMM!

Sorry bout that, guys, I can't pass up an opportunity to shout “FREEEEDOOOOOOOMMMMM!” at the top of my lungs. You should know that if you were planning to have me at your Fourth of July party.

I can do what I like, when I like, how I like, where I like, with whom I like, and there's no one around to pout and say things like, "What about me?" or "Where's my dinner, woman?" No one tells me what to think or how to feel or how I should live my life.

No, that's not entirely true. My mother, relatives, friends, acquaintances, fans, readers and barman continue to act as if they had some say over these matters. They still offer unsolicted advice and they still get kinda pissy if I refuse to take it. The difference is that now, with the exception of the barman, I no longer feel obligated to listen. My relatives might roll their eyes, but they're my blood and they know they're stuck with me, so there's that.

As for the friends, acquaintances, fans and readers, well, they know where the door is. I've only got one life, as far as I know, and I'm not going to spend it kissing asses. As my favorite author, Dr. Seuss, once said, "Be who you are and say what feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

Thank you, Dr. Seuss.

As for the barman, well, he pretty much limits himself to telling me how much I can drink and that's fair enough. For one thing, it's his job, and for another, he's rather liberal about it. Sometimes he points out that I'm being loud, or rude, or loud and rude, but he's not going to sulk about it. The worst he'll do is send me home, and maybe point and laugh the next time he sees me.

2) Life is A LOT Less Dramatic Now

Those of you who knew my ex, Toad Blowhard, will understand what I'm talking about. Or maybe not. He wasn't keen on letting me, like, talk to other people and stuff.

When I was first single, I was all sad about it. I sat around feeling sorry for myself and telling the cat how no one would ever love me again, but being a cat, he didn't care.

Quit your whining and get me my dinner, woman.

Then, slowly, I began to see that life was actually better. Imagine that. There I was, chasing after True Love like the movies said I should, but I missed one crucial detail – this isn't a freaking movie. The movie ends before the part where Cinderella sobs that Prince Charming doesn't love her anymore, and Prince Charming threatens to shoot himself if she doesn't shut up.

Being in a relationship carries its fair share of bickering, b*tching, nagging and other unpleasant sh*t. You have expectations, and your partner fails to meet them. You have needs, and your partner doesn't give a f*ck. You have plans, but guess what? Your partner has plans, too! And guess what else? They're not always the same plans.

Nowadays, I can come home and make a cup of tea and sit in peace, knowing that no one will storm through the door and start bawling me out for not doing whatever it was he thought I should be doing instead. I can make dinner and eat it, without having to chase down a boyfriend who said he'd be home in 20 minutes an hour ago. If I want to throw my socks on the floor, let the dishes pile up and let my leg hair grow, no one's there to complain about it.

In other words, my flawed personality has magically corrected itself.

3) I Feel a Pleasant, Tingling Sense of Relief When My Girl Friends Talk About Their Relationships

I was going to say “superiority,” instead of “relief,” but then I realized that's not only nasty, it's untrue. Besides, it might leave me open to Never-Say-Never Syndrome, which is the one where you say, “I'll never do X,” only to find that out X is the very next thing you do.

The astute reader might realize that all of my girl friends are either single or in bad relationships. Of course they are! I'm not going to surround myself with happy couples, am I? Then I might get lonely and start talking to the cat, which would be even weirder now that the cat is dead.

Rest in peace, Tom.

4) Actually, I Have a Lot More Sex Now

As my best friend, Sally Supportive, pointed out recently, "You can have sex with a different man every night!"

Yes, I suppose I can, but I'm a busy woman. Maybe every other week or so, if I'm free and I can find someone who isn't gross.

That's a tall order. ~ Ayleen Gaspar

For some freakin' reason, once the "honeymoon period" wore off, my boyfriends have almost always lost interest in sex. It's as though I'd had them neutered, or something. (I honestly didn't, really, I swear). And here I thought men loved sex, but I guess my Momma lied.

Again. ~Matti Mattila

At some point I saw that I was making too many sacrifices and putting in too much effort for the sake of having disinterested sex, like, once a month. Then I realized that I could totally have disinterested sex as often as I pleased, if I could free myself from the need for a relationship. So I did.

I mean, what's the point of having a man if you're not having sex with him? I mean, yeah, love and footrubs and fighting and stuff, but deep down at the heart of the matter, the reason you date someone is to have lots of sex without getting called nasty names over it.