I love being single.
Almost everything about it brings peace and joy to my world. Not only can I stretch out in bed, but I don’t
have to worry about any nocturnal sound which may emit from my body as I
sleep. I can use the entire closet and
both dressers. I can come and go as I
please without worrying about anyone else’s wishes. And I’ve finally learned how to enjoy
dating. Yes, being single is an amazing
way to live.
And yet, I do miss parts of being in a relationship.
When he yearns for me so much that he interrupts our walk
downtown to press me against the rough outside wall of a building to surprise
me with an eager kiss. Having him find
me in the kitchen to greet me after a long day, whispering urgently in my ear, “I
thought of you today,” and feeling exactly how much he wanted me, the
preparation of dinner interrupted for a while.
Feeling skilled hands slide up and down me in the shower, our bodies wet and hungry.
Waking to find a strong arm wrapped around my waist, his
long, naked body curved against mine.
Snuggling on the couch to watch some horrible move, laughing at it
together. Holding hands as we walk
through the fair. Sneaking kisses in the
condiments aisle at the grocery store.
Sitting in his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck, and crying on his
shoulder when I found out a loved one has died.
Sharing our troubles in the quiet of our room as the evening
grows late and our eyes grow tired.
Discussing
our dreams and goals while on a Sunday drive to the mountain. Enjoying private jokes that mean so much to
us and nothing to anyone else. Rejoicing
in each other’s victories, and supporting and encouraging each other through
our defeats.
Knowing he is always there for me. Having someone I can count on. Being loved by someone.
I have never experienced any of these things, yet I somehow
miss them.
