Another Valentine’s Day arrives to reflect on the intentional decision to avoid that most primal human urge to seek comfort and connection in the arms of a mate. As this calendar holiday disappears, I find myself as happily content in my choreographed singledom as ever. My life is of my own orchestration and the fewer cooks in the kitchen, the better the stew.
Understandably, there are those who are more than satisfied sharing this 80-something-year journey with a fellow traveler. They like to discuss the details of their respective workdays, synchronize their meals, think about what particular shade of green would look best in the den, vacillate about vacation rental properties, and fall asleep in a tangle beneath the muffled sounds of The Tonight Show’s opening monologue.
That may very well be the blueprint to build a rewarding and fulfilling life. But I’m not calling the contractor just yet.
My wiring screams at me to follow that heavy bass rumble of a distant drummer. I’m not going against my instincts or intentionally banishing myself to a fortress of solitude. Removing even the notion of chasing after some unattainable eligible single, trying to prove my merit, and ultimately spending any effort or time rebounding from the imaginary rejection, miscommunication, or misaligned timing seems like a much more rational and logical approach to living.
I haven’t been on a date in 18 months, and I’ll be just as satisfied and untroubled if that number hits 118. I have always found strength, motivation, and productivity from within. If anything, my numerous relationships and dalliances have hindered my growth, stunted my evolution, and routinely stood as roadblocks or speed bumps on the freeway to awakening and self-actualization.
But there’s always a chance I’ll strike up a random conversation with someone who is intelligent, insightful, opinionated, and rips the socks out of my Reefs. Then this diatribe will simply stand as a bullshit rant on a blog about independence, empowerment, and autonomy. Anything’s possible.