How many frogs do I have to kiss, again?

I’m not happily single. On a heterosexual scale, I’m now a “confirmed bachelor.” On the gay scale I’m “dead and moldering.” Anyone who says that they are “happily single” is probably lying through their teeth. I admit sometimes being single is better than the relationship you had. But when the coupled sigh and say “Oh, I wish I were single. Things were so much simpler and I had so much more freedom,” I try not to grit my teeth. It’s like the saying “Money can’t buy happiness, but only the rich can say that.” I want to point out the joys of simple and free.

You’re right. It’s much simpler. You only use one side of the mattress and so can make it last twice as long. Couches break in unevenly so you can just switch the cushions around. Toothpaste lasts forever. You never get the bad part of a bar of soap. Being able to eat leftovers for days and days because cooking for one is nearly impossible is a divine gift of food déjà vu. You learn the Heimlich Maneuver for one. You don’t have to worry about someone else taking in the mail, cleaning the toilet, doing the shopping, washing the dishes or vacuuming. It’s quite a relief, really. I always hated when other people did my housework.

Being single certainly makes the various holidays simpler. There’s no need to buy thoughtful gifts, or remember anniversaries, worry about cold sores on New Year’s Eve or save for “Sweetest Day.” The older you get, the simpler the social scheduling becomes. When you’re younger, there are tons of other “happily single” people to despise Valentine’s Day. When you’re older, you are generally the only “happily single” person sitting at home in a bathrobe eating comfort food. It certainly simplifies social interaction.

And free? The freedom is incredible. The freedom of knowing that if you break your leg in your home, you don’t have to worry about anyone else interfering with your agony. You can be sick and nurse yourself. You’re free to collect as many animals as you’d like to fill the gaping hole in your heart. You’re free to spend your money on all of your bills because you don’t have to worry about the agony of a second income. When you’re invited to everyone else’s wedding, you’re free to ignore the “plus guest” part of the RSVP. You’re free to wrestle with the other “happily single” people for a garter or a bouquet.

Being free to date is just one laugh after another. All the dating sites make it seem so fun and comfortable once you’ve decided to date one of the pathological liars on the site. When your friends set you up with someone you quickly find out that the only thing that you have in common are friends who shouldn’t be allowed to match-make. Going out on a date as you get older is simpler. You’ve skipped past the “no, I only exist on air and happiness,” phase and graduated to actually eating. You get to eye each other nervously and wonder what fatal flaw made them still single. The minefield of how to talk about people you once dated is a fun party game. Too much, you look bitter. Too little, you look like a shut-in. Actually, if you talk just right it’s too honest and they never call.

You get the freedom of creative storytelling when someone asks “Why are you still single?” You can adopt a severe venereal disease for the occasion. Alternately, you can adopt a chronic or fatal disease that keeps you from “burdening” anyone else. You were raised by a pack of single rabid feminist environmentalist ferrets and just recently entered society. You were too focused on your career/education/personal growth. You can say you’re saving yourself for the right one and you’re glad you didn’t just have to settle like your friends did.