“What a beautiful view,” Sara said as we sat at the Mountain Home Inn soaking in the amazing vista, resting our tired hiking legs. “I just wish I had someone to share it with.”

“Excuse me, Missy, but am I chopped liver? Aren’t we sharing it?”

“You know what I mean; a guy.”

“You’ll find him, sweetie,” I said, trying to sound reassuring even though I know there’s a very real possibility she won’t.

She sighed. “I’m just so tired of being single.”

Ah, yes, “being single” — the condition in which many married people wish they were, and in which many single people wish they weren’t.

Which is kind of odd because so much of what Sara loves about being single is her freedom; me, too. No one to answer to, no one to compromise with, no one who has to nag remind us to leave the toilet seat down or to replace the toothpaste cap.

All the niggling details of being coupled that tear away at intimacy and romance and often leave resentment, bitterness and disappointment in their wake.

If only being single wasn’t so … alone.

Except, I’m perfectly happy being alone.

Does that make me weird?

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Last-modified: 2021-04-23 (金) 21:30:39 (151d)