I like being single. I do. I can sleep in as late as I want— alone, taking up the whole bed and wearing granny panties and a raggedy New York Dolls t-shirt. The pressure to be “on” 24/7 is gone. I can go days with no make-up, and who cares if my hair looks like a rat’s nest? Not me. No late-night phone calls. “Talk dirty to me baby.” Ha, yeah right. The Office is on. I’m on Season 3, Disc 2. So what? And yeah, I just had 4 beers and ate an entire round of cheese. And maybe, I’ve been wearing pajamas for 2 days. But you know what? It’s ok. Because I’m single. And I don’t have to impress anyone. 

But, damn it. Sometimes enough is enough. I’m bored and starting to smell a little like my grandma. So maybe, tonight, because I am single— I’ll go out on the town in my fanciest gear and maybe even comb my hair. The Office is getting kind of boring and my t-shirt is covered with crumbs and beer stains. And sleeping is a little nicer when you’re doing it with someone else. Especially after you’ve just had a lot of sex. Definitely then. Being attached would make that a little easier. But, I guess that’s what bars are for. 

Oh yeah, and Thanksgiving sucks.

The End.