Spring has sprung, and with it a million good looking people have sprung out of their winter clothes. And, as the men strip off their heavy coats, and the women have their feet sloughed and painted, I find myself watching with envy. Mating season has started up again.
Look: I love being in a relationship. Being in a relationship is great. I regularly enjoy comfortable, delightful sex. I always have a supportive friend to champion my goals, a built-in plus-one to events, a bag-carrying travel companion, a big spoon and the best roommate I’ve ever split the rent with. Life is sweet.
But being single in the spring is amazing! The tans are newly sprayed and the abs are freshly hardened. Everyone decides drinking on rooftops and copulating in public is par for the sun-shiny course.
I miss it. I miss being single.
I miss having my own bed. My boyfriend—all six foot four of him—takes up most of our full size mattress. A queen wouldn’t fit in our oddly shaped room. He snores. He lifts up his leg when he’s dreaming and moves the covers off me. Spooning is overrated. You know what’s better than spooning? Spreading out on your own damn bed as much as you want in perfectly cool silence.
I miss masturbating. I mean, I still masturbate, but not as often as I used to and not without a twinge of guilt. We should probably have shower sex when I feel horny in the bath tub, right? Oh, I suppose. Boyfriend, get in here! But sometimes a girl just wants to get herself off and pass out without having to deal with hands and cocks and making a mess. In, out, boom, zzz’s. I miss that.
I dressed better when I was single. I never knew when I might meet some hot, single guy. Hot single guys are like your period: you cant be too sure you won’t run into trouble, so you might as well be prepared. I kept myself slim, wore tight clothes and donned lacy, cleavage-boosting bras. I always wore great underwear out to the bar. After all, I never knew who might want to see them after a few drinks. Now—to my boyfriend’s despair—I hang out around the apartment in cotton Gap undies and worn out men’s undershirts.
I miss the unexpected. As clever and entertaining my boyfriend is, there’s no real thrill of discovery left in him. I know he gets cranky when he’s hungry. I know what makes him laugh. I know he loves me. But when you’re single, all of the unknowns can be exhilarating! Even the minute details are beguiling. Re-reading the text a guy sent two days ago can trigger a waterfall of questions: Why did he wait so long to write back? Why was he so ambiguous? Is he trying to be funny? Is he the type of guy who uses smiley faces in text messages? The beauty of the chase is the question of opportunity.
Of course, when you’re single any moment could lead you to your next encounter. But the best moments are always out with your single friends, dancing in sweaty bars and spying a group of guys across the room. If you’re lucky, you get the hot one. If you’re unlucky, you make a mental note to hang out with uglier friends. The bar scene is a wasteland for couples. My boyfriend and I love going out for cocktails after work, but we always plant ourselves on the couch for SNL. Weekend nights are for single people.
I also miss being wooed. I’ve written previously about romance in serious relationships—what little trivialities you could actually call romantic, anyway. But when you’re single woman, a man has to court you. When my boyfriend was still trying to impress me, he asked me to dinner, he took care of the bill, he took me to the movies and concerts, and he even sent me flowers. Once I moved in with my gentleman caller, the wooing was officially over. The elaborate date nights are few and far between, and we always split the bill.
I miss the stories. At one point I was dating so many guys, my coworkers would practically beg me for ridiculous date recaps. But no one cares about listening to stories about your relationship. Even couples hate stories about other couples! But everyone wants to hear juicy will-he-or-won’t-he details. Everyone wants to hear about the guy who called his mom during the dinner date and the dude with the weird diaper fetish.
I asked my boyfriend what he misses most about being single.
“The firsts,” he said. “First kiss, first sex, first time we went away together…” He trailed off.
“The first time meeting my parents,” I added.
“Oh god. The first time admitting that the first time I met your parents was ridiculous, because you got drunk and cried.”
We laughed. And then we kissed. And then we had sex.
Actually, screw it. Not being single is pretty damn delightful. The grass is always greener, but the grass on my side definitely has more perks.