First up, going to the movies.

1.Pick a movie you would like to see. It can be helpful to watch loads of television to catch the previews for what is coming out (or very recently out, because let’s be honest, once a film opens, they kind of stop advertising it unless it becomes a #1 or is up for awards. This says a lot about our culture, but that’s another book.) I hear Wonder Woman is pretty good.

2. Choose a time to see said movie that works with your schedule. What is particularly lovely at this stage is that you don’t have to factor in anyone else’s schedule. If you want to go to the 1:20 show on a Thursday because it is cheaper, you can go to the 1:20 show on Thursday. Provided you don’t have work or other responsibilities at that time.

3. Find a mode of transportation that will get you to the movie theatre in time to purchase a ticket, get snacks, use the restroom, and find a seat before the movie starts. This time can vary, depending on your dedication to previews.

4. Arrive at said theatre via said mode of transportation.

5. Purchase a ticket for said movie. Now, there are a couple of ways to do this. If you are on your game and have purchased your ticket online in advance, you can skip this step. You just have to get it from the machine. If you are banking on the scarcity of movie-going crowds at 1:20pm on a Thursday (which, let’s be honest, you’ll win that bet every time), you can either purchase tickets from the seventeen year olds sitting behind bulletproof glass who want nothing more in life than to sell you a ticket to Daddy Daycare 3, or you can avoid people altogether by purchasing from the automated machine that are usually just to the left of the actual ticket windows. I tend to go for avoiding human interaction. That’s not what i’m here for. I’m here to watch a movie, not to make friends.

6. Use the restroom. This is important, especially for those of us with small bladders. Plus, if you purchase snacks before using the restroom, you will have to find somewhere to put them in the restroom where you can be reasonably sure they will not be peed on or stolen while you evacuate your bladder. And let’s be honest, if this is your first time going to the movies on your own, you probably did some pre-gaming and it’s time to break the seal because there is no way you’re leaving in the middle of Luke Skywalker’s big comeback to go pee. Pee before the movie.

7. Get snacks. Honestly, get snacks. There is nobody with you who might judge your dietary choices at this moment. If you want chocolate and nachos and a hot dog, go for it! The majority of the ticket price goes to the movie studio, while concession sales go to the theatre. Seriously. If you want to support your local indie movie theatre, buy snacks.

8. Find the right theatre for the movie you want to see. Let’s not theatre hop, kids, okay? Go see the movie you paid for. Especially if you’re at a theatre with two screens.

9. Pick a seat. Now, this can be the best part or the most nerve wracking part, depending on your personality and the density of the crowd already in the theatre. What is lovely about this part is that you don’t have to take anyone else’s opinions into consideration. If you like the front, sit in the front. If you like the middle, sit in the middle. What can be nerve wracking about it is if there are lots of people already in the theatre and the only spot left is a single seat between two couples in the back row. On the up side, you will most likely get both of those armrests. On the down side, you have to crawl over everyone else if you need to get up in the middle of the movie. Which is why it is important to pee first.

9.1 One way to avoid the potentially nerve wracking side to this conundrum is to get to the theatre stupid early. Which means budgeting in more time, but if your phone battery is fully charged, does it matter if you spend that extra fifteen minutes at home reading, or could you finish that chapter in the theater with a box of Raisinets at the ready? Unless you keep Raisinets in your house at all times, I think the choice is clear. If you do keep Raisinets in your house at all times, I salute you.

10. Watch the movie. Laugh if something strikes you funny. Cry if something makes you sad.

11. When the movie is over, leave. And you know the old adage, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” You are welcome to watch the credits or not watch the credits or stop at the bathroom on your way out, or pick up another snack for the ride home, whatever you want to do. You don’t have to rush out because your companion is going to be late for dinner. Or you can choose to rush out so you can beat the crowd. Whatever you want to do. You are beholden to no one.

And congratulations! You’ve done it! You’ve gone to the movies by yourself!

This truly is one of those things that gets easier the more you do it, so I suggest you practice often. You’ll get the hang of it.

Have fun!

Being single means you are not in a committed romantic relationship.

Being alone can either mean you are not in any sort of relationship or friendship or acquaintanceship with anyone, or it can mean there is no one else in the same physical location as you at the same time as you. For example, I am technically alone in my apartment right now as I am writing this (aside from my cat, which means I am actually not alone). In the grander sense of the term, however, I am not alone because I have some of the most amazing friends in the world, a loving and supportive family, and the aforementioned cat who makes sure I wake up every morning. There are literally dozens of people out there to whom it matters that I exist. I am not alone. My guess is that you are not, either.

Quick side note: if you are alone — if you have no family, no friends, no connections, I am sorry. That is fixable, if you want it to be — you can join a club or start a club or go back to school or say hello to that person at work who seems pretty groovy. Or hell, start seeing a therapist who can help you work through some of the stuff that may be preventing you from forming connections with others. I am not a therapist, I don’t pretend to understand your circumstances, but I can empathize that you may get lonely from time to time. This is not the story to read to work through that. There are tons of them out there, but this is not one of them. This is a story on how to be single, not on how to avoid being alone. If you want to find a happy medium and learn how to be single while not being alone, there might be some good stuff in here for you. Or, at the very least, thank you for clicking on my story and reading this far. That means something to me, which is maybe the first step to not being alone? Which is groovy. But I am an introvert, so if it takes a while for me to respond to your emails and tweets and texts, that’s why. I don’t really like people. But I’m glad you’re reading!

That took an odd turn.

Anyway, being single versus being alone.

I think, as a culture, we tend to think they are the same thing. Often times, when a romantic relationship ends, or when one fails to start, we can start thinking we are all alone in the universe, that no one will ever love us, and that our lives are doomed to be empty and lonely and meaningless. I have been single for approximately 93% of my life, and my life is not empty, nor lonely, nor meaningless. I go out and am social quite often — sometimes more frequently than I would like. I travel, I perform, I see movies, I see plays, I go for walks, I visit museums, I go out dancing, I dine in restaurants, I have friends for whom I would do anything at the drop of a hat, who would (and do) do the same for me. All of these things that I have done, I have done with someone and I have done by myself. And because of all of these things, I have led a very full, rich, meaningful life. All the while being single. I think it is important to make a distinction between being single and being alone because then being single isn’t quite so scary. The life of a single person is not one of solitude, lacking in human interaction, lacking in physical contact. The life of a single person can be extremely fulfilling, and include all sorts of relationships. It is simply missing the committed romantic relationship that film, television, magazines, story books, and family gatherings all tell us we are supposed to have and supposed to want. It is okay to not have one. It is okay to not want one.

I, myself, have never really had one. I have tried. Believe you me, I have tried to have a committed romantic relationship, but they don’t work, they don’t make me happy, and I don’t like who I become when I start getting into one, so I decided to stop trying. I’ve referenced it before and will likely reference it again, but insanity has been defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. If I keep trying to be in romantic relationships, and the end result is that I am consistently unhappy in them, maybe the fault lies in expecting my life to be better with a romantic partner in it.

In fairness, I have tried lots of different methods of becoming not single. I have tried Match, Craigslist, eHarmony, Tinder, Bumble, OK Cupid, Hinge, speed dating, nerd dating, and even the good old fashioned approaching someone you know through some sort of social circle (for me, swing dancing, theatre, and regular hanging out in the same bar type circles) to try to find people to date. I have dated men older than me, younger than me, of the same ethnic background, of different ethnic backgrounds, of the same belief systems, of different religions, and of all sorts of different levels of neediness, and I have found them all to have one thing in common. They all drain me of everything I have to give — emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I’ve had the sense to not get financially invested in someone else’s drama, because none of these encounters have lasted long enough for that to become an issue, though I did have one guy offer to help me pay my rent when I was in a bit of a bind. I didn’t take him up on that because I knew the relationship wouldn’t last and I didn’t want to have that sort of obligation holding us together. But I think being drained of those other things is far worse and far more difficult to recover from than settling a financial debt once the relationship has ended.

I have never dated an outright abusive man. And I have really only dated men. But I dated a man who was so afraid to learn new things or to experience life on his own, who was so dependent on having a partner that he wouldn’t even rent a movie he had never seen before by himself. I dated another man who’s band had recently broken up and most of the time we spent together was spent with him telling me stories of the band’s glory days, me trying to comfort his wounds and encouraging him to keep pursuing his art, and him never encouraging me to pursue mine. And for an introvert who finds being around people generally exhausting to begin with, having to take care of a romantic partner who does not know how to take care of me, nor who is interested in figuring out how to take care of me, nor who listens when I tell him how to take care of me (sample conversation: “I’m not coming over on my one free evening this week because I need to do laundry and not be around people and it has nothing to do with you but I need some time to recharge and no, I swear I’m not cheating on you, if I don’t have time to see you how would I possibly have time to cheat on you are we really having this conversation and yes, okay, if you want to come hang out while I’m doing my laundry that’s fine, but is it okay if we don’t talk and don’t sit in the same room because I really need this one night that I have off this week to recharge for what I have going on the rest of the week”), these relationships are just plain exhausting. And I have better things to do with my time.

So I have chosen to be single. I have chosen to stop looking for something society tells me I should have but that makes me miserable. This does not make me a loner. This does not mean I am alone. It means I am who I am on my terms. Until the day I meet someone who can keep up with me, who makes me more than who I am on my own, I will choose to remain single. Because I choose not to give up everything I have to make someone else feel better who does not make me feel better. Is that selfish? Maybe. I’m okay with that, though.

I am not alone.

You are not alone.

Singleness is not solitude.

Singleness is a brilliant, loving relationship with yourself.

Thank you, Captain Obvious, I never would have figured this out without you! The problem with this statement is that it sounds like a comparative statement between you and me. You found the right person. I didn’t. And why is your right person right for you, but all of the people with whom I’ve gone on dates have not been the right people for me? Actually, scratch that. I know why they weren’t the right people. But you get the idea. We already know that this is the core issue — it’s not comforting to point it out.

What to say instead: “How about them Cubbies?”

What not to say: “Nobody out there is good enough for you, and it’s good that you’re not willing to settle.”

Again, with the comparative statements, except this one is worse because it is also isolating and self-deprecating. The first half of the sentence is meant to pump someone up, I know — you’re so great, you’re on a level all by yourself! But it is lonely at the top. Or on the side. Or wherever this other level is where great single people exist. (Side note: are these other levels where great single people exist like parallel universes? And are we each in one of our own? Because if there was a singular level for great single people, why aren’t we all running into each other all the time? Why aren’t there more of us? For as often as I hear this statement, there is a surprising lack of actual people on the same level as me, so I’m thinking we are each stuck in our own parallel universe levels and therefore doomed to never meet. Like our worlds are one second out of sync with each other. There’s a brilliant sci-fi tragedy idea for you. Copyright me, if it hasn’t been done before.) Not one single single person wants to fall into a category entirely their own where they become completely untouchable to all other human beings. Who wants that? Would you want that? Why are you trying to imply that I am that? And then the second half of the statement is self-deprecating, especially when it comes from someone who is not single because it means you settled. You settled for less than you deserve, you compromised your morals, you lowered your standards, whatever, so that you could be with someone. If you are my very dear friend, and I look up to you and your relationship as a beacon of hope that good relationships do exist out there, this is a really depressing statement to learn that you gave up a piece of yourself to be with someone who you consider to be less than, but who I consider to be amazeballs. If you think your partner is sub-par, can I have them? Really. Wanna trade?

What to say instead: “That Kris Bryant is a looker, isn’t he? Despite the resemblance to Zac Efron.”

What not to say: “I know plenty of people who have found their life partners later in life — in their sixties and seventies.”

Stop. This is not comforting. At all. Nobody wants to know that they have another twenty to fifty years of being single ahead of them before they might finally find someone worthwhile, knowing that the time they have together could only be ten to twenty years before one or the other of you croaks. Every single story out there, every single movie out there, shows us how gorgeous it is to be able to spend the majority of your life with someone you love who loves you back. How come I may only get ten years with someone? And why do I have to spend so much time on my own before I find this person? What were they doing all this time that they couldn’t find me sooner? Am I actually their second (or third or twelfth) life partner choice? Why did it take them so long to figure that out?

What to say instead: “The Bryant/Rizzo/Ross relationship is just darling, isn’t it? Though it’s kind of sad that they called Ross ‘grandpa’ even though he’s not even forty.”

What not to say: “Your mom/dad/sister/brother/best friend loves you very much.”

Thank you. We know. It’s not the same thing, though, and please stop trying to convince us that it is. It’s like saying, “I really want an ice cream brownie sundae,” and having someone reply, “But you have carrots and celery and baked beans and tomatoes, so you should be happy.” Yes, they are all food products. But there is no way that celery, carrots, baked beans, and tomatoes will ever make a person stop craving an ice cream brownie sundae, no matter what the diet plans try to tell you. And it’s not that carrots and celery and baked beans and tomatoes don’t nourish your soul and taste good and make you feel like you’re doing your body a favor by consuming them — they absolutely do. But the ice cream brownie sundae is decadent and sweet and luscious in a way that veggies and legumes will never be. Not to mention the fact that you, Person in a Relationship, also have carrots and celery and baked beans and tomatoes, and you also get to indulge in an ice cream brownie sundae every night, and you know first hand that it fills a completely different set of needs, some of which will be discussed in a later chapter. So please stop using this as a statement of comfort.

What to say instead: “Did you see the size of those Cubs World Series rings?”

What not to say: “You just need to put yourself out there.”

Out where? Out on the internet? Out in traffic? Out in a field? This one can either be a wake up call or very annoying. For those single people who never leave the house or interact with other human beings, who have never said, “Hey, I have a crush on you” to anyone or signed up for one of the eight bajillion online dating services out there, it might have the ring of truth to it. For those of us who have filled our non-dating time with other activities like dancing or playing darts or joining a fantasy football league or signing up for seven bajillion of the eight bajillion online dating services out there, it is a dismissive statement. Being single does not automatically mean one is a hermit or lonely or anti-social — I’ve got a whole chapter on this topic coming soon. Being single simply means one is not in a romantic relationship. Single people can lead very active lives, and do lots of things whereat they meet lots of different people. The insinuation that because these activities have not netted a romantic relationship implies that either A) the single person hasn’t been doing these things enough; B) the single person hasn’t been trying to take full advantage of the unsuspecting other single people at these events upon whom he or she could prey; or C) there are lots of other single people out there just waiting to be preyed upon, which, as we all know, is not true as the vast majority of people over the age of 22 have paired up with somebody. And/or they are not of the sexual orientation that would make them receptive to being preyed upon by said single person.

What to say instead: “Now that the curse is broken, how many series do you think they’ll win in a row?”

What not to say: “You just need to keep trying.”

Why? Insanity has been defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I don’t care if it was Einstein or Franklin or Twain who said it, I think it rings true. After a certain number of failed attempts at something that brings nothing but misery, I think it is totally fine to try something else or throw in the towel and stop trying altogether.

What to say instead: “We know Wrigley is the best ballpark overall, but which major league baseball stadium do you think has the best vegan snack options?”

What not to say: “There is someone out there for you, and I have faith that you will find the person God created for you.”

Barf.

Not only is this imposing your beliefs on me, but it also presumes that you know God’s plan better than she does. Maybe she wants me to be single because I’m “meant” for something else. Did you ever think about that?”

What to say instead: “If you got to sing the seventh inning stretch at Wrigley, what would you say to the crowd right before you started singing? Full-on Harry Caray impression, or something else?”

What not to say: “You’re too picky.”

Fuck that. Not gonna settle. I am a glittery unicorn that poops rainbows and I deserve to be with my own kind.

What to say instead: “I’m going to the Cubs game today. You wanna go with me?”

Why are you still single?

I have asked myself that question more times than I care to admit, sometimes out of frustration, sometimes out of anger, sometimes as an attempt at levity. But since I have asked it so many times, I have come up with a few answers, too.

I am super involved in my work. Not my day job, mind you (sorry, guys), but my theatrical work. I have missed out on potential dates and screwed up young potential romances because my love for the theatre comes first. I have to go to rehearsals. I cannot miss performances. And yes, I would often rather be at home reading Shakespeare or preparing for an audition than out with someone I don’t know eating a salad and making small talk about his relatives who I can’t decide yet whether or not I should devote brain space to remembering their names and birthdays. Because if we’re only going out this once, I don’t really care how many times your cousin has been married. Actually, until I meet your cousin, I won’t care how many times he has been married, and will likely continue to not care after I’ve met him because it’s not my place to have an opinion about such things. So yes, I put theatre first. Which might make me single.

On the other hand, I know a lot of married theatre people.

I am vegan. Have been for nearly fifteen years. Now, one would think that it would be as simple as finding a vegan guy to be with and poof! We can have cute little vegan babies and raise them on tofu and supplements. Thing is, I am the least judgmental vegan you will ever meet. I know that veganism is my choice, and it does not have to be everyone else’s. Do I secretly wish more people were vegan so we’d have better options on menus and in footwear? Yes, I absolutely do, because being vegan rocks. But I also know that not everybody’s body chemistry can handle it, so I tend to go for more of an “I’ll take what I can get” approach. And every time I find myself out with a non-vegan guy, I flash to that moment in Pulp Fiction where Samuel L. Jackson is excited to eat a burger because his girlfriend is vegan which basically means he is, too. I wouldn’t want to be that girlfriend. My favorite definition of veganism is “not subjecting animals to human desires.” How can I then subject another human being to my desires for their entire lifestyle? That just feels wrong to me. But on the other hand, because I am a non-judgmental vegan, I’m not hardcore enough for some vegan men out there — I’m not vocal enough or enough of an activist or whatever — and we would spend our lives together with him disappointed that I wasn’t giving more. So finding the vegan boyfriend is not as easy as it looks.

On the other hand, I know plenty of couples wherein person has different dietary restrictions than the other.

I am not a religious person. I am spiritual, yes, but not religious. I don’t know if you have seen those videos where they reduce the world’s population to 100 people to point out the statistics — of the 100 people, 52 would be women and 48 would be men, that kind of thing. In those cute little animations, you’ll see that only about 18% of the world is agnostic. Now, I’m not saying I would shy away from a partner with religious leanings. It would mean we’d have to talk about how to raise our kids, but it’s a conversation we could have. But would a very religious man want to be with me? Hell, consider the orthodox Jewish Community in New York and the fact that those men aren’t even allowed to look at me, and my odds of finding a husband start to plummet. So again, my spiritual beliefs may be contributing to my singleness.

On the other hand, I know lots of married people who are of different faiths than their partners.

I am an introvert. No, this does not mean I’m shy and anti-social. At least not all of the time. If you need more context on introversion (and why actually, it’s kind of a superpower), Google Susan Cain. Her book is great. Her Ted talk is great. Seriously, I’ll wait. That’s the lovely thing about the printed word — you can put down a book, go do something else, and the words will still be there when you get back. Anyway, I am an introvert, which means I find other people exhausting. I need time without people to recharge so I’m ready for the next onslaught. Now, most people in romantic relationships tend to like to be with their partners. All of the time. Some even get separation anxiety. Those relationships do not work for me — I get very cranky very quickly and start to resent both my partner and myself. So one might argue that I should be with an introvert so we both get it. The potential problem with introvert-introvert romances (that I have learned first hand) is that both parties are equally happy not spending time together, so things just fizzle. I don’t want to be the one responsible for reaching out and making plans, and neither does he, so neither of us does. I had one guy say to me once, “It’s not really dating if we only see each other once a month, is it?” I had to agree. We finished our dinner, I went home, and a few months later, he was dating a more extroverted friend of mine.

On the other hand, at least two of the best relationships I know are between an introvert and an extrovert.

I suffer from depression. Have since I was about fourteen. I’m not going to go into the full brunt of it, though there are times I think I may be bipolar as opposed to straight up depressive because when I’m feeling good, I’m feeling GOOD. It can be very emotionally taxing to be with someone who is bipolar. I get that. Bipolarism runs in my family and I know the kind of hard work and dedication it can take. I also believe in honesty and find myself wondering if I should tell potential partners up front that there are days I will not leave my apartment, days I will just want to cry, days when the voices inside my head keep trying to tell me how much easier everything would be if I stopped existing. And then I think, no, that is probably best saved for the second date, which I never get to because I couldn’t get past the insipid conversation about getting the floors redone in the house he just bought which is nowhere near anywhere I would ever like to live so obviously this relationship will go nowhere. So it doesn’t come up, but it is there, making me second guess my every move and giving me panic attacks every time I go meet someone for coffee.

On the other hand, bipolarism runs in my family and I literally would not exist if someone hadn’t fallen in love and started a family with someone who was bipolar.

I am not a size two. I’m just not. Never have been, never will be. And while I would like to think myself superwoman, the messages that women are bombarded with every day as we walk down the street that tell us we have to be thin and fit with perfect skin and glossy hair have gotten to me over the years. I have spent way too much time and energy trying to make myself look like someone or something else. But the funny thing about that is, Sarah Jessica Parker has often been lauded for not getting a nose job — she looks distinctive, so she stood out in casting calls. And for all of the men I have known in my life, I have only ever met one who said he honestly preferred really tiny women so he could “toss them around in bed.” Most of the heterosexual men I have talked to like a woman with boobs and hips — it is what attracts them physically to their partners. So it must be the scars on my face that are keeping potential partners away, right? Except my honorary sister didn’t even know I had any. I have spent years hiding behind my less than perfect appearance as the number one reason I don’t have a partner.

On the other hand, I know people of all shapes, sizes, colors, ages, ability levels, hair colors, eye colors, and shoe sizes who have found partners.

The thing is this: if you are looking for excuses for why you are single, you will find them. There are a million and one reasons why you might be single. For me, at this point in my life, there is just one.

I have chosen this.

I prefer to be single, because I choose not to be a size two. I choose not to buy into someone else’s religion if it doesn’t speak to me. I choose to live a vegan lifestyle. I choose to throw myself 100% into my work. I choose to embrace and honor my introversion. I don’t necessarily choose to be bipolar, but it chose me. And were I to change any of these things to be the person someone else wanted me to be, I would cease to be me. Above all, I’m not ready to cease being me. So until such time as I find someone who embraces all of these things about me, I will remain single.

What I can say to you is, make a list of all of the things you have ever told yourself are keeping you single. Then look around and find people who share those same traits but have relationships until you can cross each and everyone one of those things off of your list. Embrace who you are, with or without a relationship because I’m guessing you are pretty awesome, and I would hate to see you lose that awesome for someone less than worthy. You can do it. I’ll wait, and will still be here when you’re ready to proceed.

This is not a series about how to find a relationship.

This is not a series about that nebulous period before you get married where in the eyes of the law you are single, but you have actually already melded your life so completely with that of another that you can’t fall asleep without the other person in the same bed.

This is not a series about that two week period between when you break up with someone and when you feel that you are healed enough to merit looking for your rebound person so you put a profile up on OK Cupid and decide you’ll try going out with that guy who is nothing like your ex (except they have the same hairstyle, and the same glasses, and the same hipster facial hair, but really, they are nothing alike because your ex was a Game of Thrones guy and this new mystery boy loves The Walking Dead. And Game of Thrones. But really they’re totally different) to prove to all of your friends that you are over it and you’re getting back in the game.

This is a series about being truly, utterly, completely single.

There are a couple of side notes to this world of singleness, though, which we’ll get into a little later on, because singleness does not mean aloneness. It just means a lack of romantic entanglement. And for the purposes of this series, I’m including those in “friends with benefits” and “fuckbuddy” type relationships because those are romantic entanglements, regardless of how hard we try to convince ourselves that they are still a form of singleness. When I say single, I mean single. No girlfriend, no boy toy on the side, no spouse, no someone you are kind-of-sort-of hanging out with and having sex with on the regular. I mean single. You and a cat sharing a can of tuna on a Friday night while watching reruns of The Golden Girls single. The glorious, blissful kind of single. Because they tell you to write what you know and one thing I know better than most people is how to be single.

So what makes me such an expert on singleness, you may ask? I’m glad that you did, because this is the only math I really like doing, in large part because I find the result to be ridiculous.

Let’s say that the average age at which a person could or would start dating in American society is fourteen years old. Or at least that it was when I was growing up back in the mesozoic era. And for the sake of argument, we’ll go from my fourteenth birthday to the closest birthday to today’s date, which means I have been dating-eligible for approximately 9,490 days. You are welcome to do the reverse math to figure out how old I am if you’re into that sort of thing. Anyway, of those 9,490 days, we should take out about a year for this one fuckbuddy I had, a month for the drummer, two months for the clown, three-ish months for my first boyfriend the first time around and one month for our second try at it, two weeks for the obsessive guy, two months for the guy in college who I probably could have/should have married, a month for the showmance, the three dates I went on in high school (one Homecoming and two Turnabout dances), and a few random days for the odd first date/random hookup that have happened over the years. Even if we say there have been 50 random first dates and/or hookups, adding those fifty days to the aforementioned short-term “relationships” equals about another year. Barely. Which means of those 9,490 days, I have dated on approximately 730 of them, give or take. Which means I have spent approximately 7.7% of my adult life dating. Or, 92.3% of my adult life has been spent single.

Think about that for a minute, those of you who are just out of a ten year relationship and looking for a rebound, thinking that the month you have spent single is the hardest you’ve had to live through. Not to minimize your pain because I don’t know your life, but I have spent 92.3% of my adult life single. And that is being generous with the number of random one-off dates I’ve had. Ninety-two-point-three percent. If you really want to have fun with it and measure the amount of days I’ve dated in comparison to the number of days I have lived my entire life, it comes to me spending 95% of my life single.

Compare this to people who marry their high school sweethearts, get married at 21, and stay married until they die. They will have spent 80-ish percent of their lives committed to one person.

What I’m saying is, I’m weird.

I also know I’m weird because I once told a co-worker that I don’t date, at which point he nearly choked and finally managed to sputter out, “But…but…but…what do you DO?”

The long and the short of it is, I am an actor, a musician, a dancer, a baseball fan, an occasional dart thrower, a seasoned bowler, a British television aficionado, loving companion to an adorable feline roommate, and a loyal friend. I go out and do things and meet people and I travel and read and post things online. I fill my time with all of the same things as anyone else does; I just very often do them alone or with friends as opposed to doing them with significant others.

But have I tried dating? Really tried?

Yes. Many times. I tried Match.com. They suggested I date my brother, so I deleted my profile. I tried OK Cupid and lost my faith in this country’s educational system. I tried eHarmony and was so disappointed in the one guy who I finally, actually got to talk to, that I decided the hoops weren’t helpful and weren’t worth it. I tried Tinder for five minutes and had to burn my eyeballs. I tried Bumble for ten minutes and gained a weird empathy for men who send dick pics in a desperate attempt to get someone to react. I tried Hinge and found myself laughing at their claim that they are “the relationship app,” as the difference between Hinge and Tinder seemed to be that with Hinge, the people you said no to appear in your feed again much sooner than with Tinder. I tried Craigslist and had about as much luck as one would expect to find on Craigslist. I tried speed dating and found a guy who was most likely on speed. I tried nerd dating and met some lovely nerds who were either completely uninterested in me or so nerdy they didn’t know how to ask me out at the end of the night, which made the experience just like any other night out playing board games and drinking, except with (believe it or not) even more talk of Doctor Who. I tried dating friends — that failed. I tried dating people I’d never met before — that failed. I tried long distance dating — that failed. And I know what you’re thinking — of course they all failed! Because you didn’t meet the right person! You just need to keep at it. I wrote a whole other post on why that is the wrong answer, which we will get to later. After you’ve read it, we can chat more.

So what I’m saying is this: I am single. I have been single for a very long time. I know what it is like to be single. I know what it is like to be single and looking and sad and desperate and I know that fear that there is something wrong with me if I don’t figure out a way to stop being single very soon.

But most of all, and the reason I decided to write this series, I know how to enjoy being single. It doesn’t have to be scary. It doesn’t have to be lonely. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world. It can be fun and fulfilling and can allow you to see things in the world around you that you might have otherwise missed. And I’m here to help you navigate.

Ready?

Let’s go.

Cover photo by Steve Ewert

Other photos by me

Introduction

This is a series about being single.

This is not a series about how to find a relationship.

This is not a series about that nebulous period before you get married where in the eyes of the law you are single, but you have actually already melded your life so completely with that of another that you can’t fall asleep without the other person in the same bed.

This is not a series about that two week period between when you break up with someone and when you feel that you are healed enough to merit looking for your rebound person so you put a profile up on OK Cupid and decide you’ll try going out with that guy who is nothing like your ex (except they have the same hairstyle, and the same glasses, and the same hipster facial hair, but really, they are nothing alike because your ex was a Game of Thrones guy and this new mystery boy loves The Walking Dead. And Game of Thrones. But really they’re totally different) to prove to all of your friends that you are over it and you’re getting back in the game.

This is a series about being truly, utterly, completely single.

There are a couple of side notes to this world of singleness, though, which we’ll get into a little later on, because singleness does not mean aloneness. It just means a lack of romantic entanglement. And for the purposes of this series, I’m including those in “friends with benefits” and “fuckbuddy” type relationships because those are romantic entanglements, regardless of how hard we try to convince ourselves that they are still a form of singleness. When I say single, I mean single. No girlfriend, no boy toy on the side, no spouse, no someone you are kind-of-sort-of hanging out with and having sex with on the regular. I mean single. You and a cat sharing a can of tuna on a Friday night while watching reruns of The Golden Girls single. The glorious, blissful kind of single. Because they tell you to write what you know and one thing I know better than most people is how to be single.

So what makes me such an expert on singleness, you may ask? I’m glad that you did, because this is the only math I really like doing, in large part because I find the result to be ridiculous.

Let’s say that the average age at which a person could or would start dating in American society is fourteen years old. Or at least that it was when I was growing up back in the mesozoic era. And for the sake of argument, we’ll go from my fourteenth birthday to the closest birthday to today’s date, which means I have been dating-eligible for approximately 9,490 days. You are welcome to do the reverse math to figure out how old I am if you’re into that sort of thing. Anyway, of those 9,490 days, we should take out about a year for this one fuckbuddy I had, a month for the drummer, two months for the clown, three-ish months for my first boyfriend the first time around and one month for our second try at it, two weeks for the obsessive guy, two months for the guy in college who I probably could have/should have married, a month for the showmance, the three dates I went on in high school (one Homecoming and two Turnabout dances), and a few random days for the odd first date/random hookup that have happened over the years. Even if we say there have been 50 random first dates and/or hookups, adding those fifty days to the aforementioned short-term “relationships” equals about another year. Barely. Which means of those 9,490 days, I have dated on approximately 730 of them, give or take. Which means I have spent approximately 7.7% of my adult life dating. Or, 92.3% of my adult life has been spent single.

Think about that for a minute, those of you who are just out of a ten year relationship and looking for a rebound, thinking that the month you have spent single is the hardest you’ve had to live through. Not to minimize your pain because I don’t know your life, but I have spent 92.3% of my adult life single. And that is being generous with the number of random one-off dates I’ve had. Ninety-two-point-three percent. If you really want to have fun with it and measure the amount of days I’ve dated in comparison to the number of days I have lived my entire life, it comes to me spending 95% of my life single.

Compare this to people who marry their high school sweethearts, get married at 21, and stay married until they die. They will have spent 80-ish percent of their lives committed to one person.

What I’m saying is, I’m weird.

I also know I’m weird because I once told a co-worker that I don’t date, at which point he nearly choked and finally managed to sputter out, “But…but…but…what do you DO?”

The long and the short of it is, I am an actor, a musician, a dancer, a baseball fan, an occasional dart thrower, a seasoned bowler, a British television aficionado, loving companion to an adorable feline roommate, and a loyal friend. I go out and do things and meet people and I travel and read and post things online. I fill my time with all of the same things as anyone else does; I just very often do them alone or with friends as opposed to doing them with significant others.

But have I tried dating? Really tried?

Yes. Many times. I tried Match.com. They suggested I date my brother, so I deleted my profile. I tried OK Cupid and lost my faith in this country’s educational system. I tried eHarmony and was so disappointed in the one guy who I finally, actually got to talk to, that I decided the hoops weren’t helpful and weren’t worth it. I tried Tinder for five minutes and had to burn my eyeballs. I tried Bumble for ten minutes and gained a weird empathy for men who send dick pics in a desperate attempt to get someone to react. I tried Hinge and found myself laughing at their claim that they are “the relationship app,” as the difference between Hinge and Tinder seemed to be that with Hinge, the people you said no to appear in your feed again much sooner than with Tinder. I tried Craigslist and had about as much luck as one would expect to find on Craigslist. I tried speed dating and found a guy who was most likely on speed. I tried nerd dating and met some lovely nerds who were either completely uninterested in me or so nerdy they didn’t know how to ask me out at the end of the night, which made the experience just like any other night out playing board games and drinking, except with (believe it or not) even more talk of Doctor Who. I tried dating friends — that failed. I tried dating people I’d never met before — that failed. I tried long distance dating — that failed. And I know what you’re thinking — of course they all failed! Because you didn’t meet the right person! You just need to keep at it. I wrote a whole other post on why that is the wrong answer, which we will get to later. After you’ve read it, we can chat more.

So what I’m saying is this: I am single. I have been single for a very long time. I know what it is like to be single. I know what it is like to be single and looking and sad and desperate and I know that fear that there is something wrong with me if I don’t figure out a way to stop being single very soon.

But most of all, and the reason I decided to write this series, I know how to enjoy being single. It doesn’t have to be scary. It doesn’t have to be lonely. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world. It can be fun and fulfilling and can allow you to see things in the world around you that you might have otherwise missed. And I’m here to help you navigate.

Ready?

Let’s go.

Why I’m Single

A big question that is asked of single people, especially cool single people still in their twenties and thirties is, “Why are you still single?” Which is usually accompanied by a list of said single person’s greatest qualities, to point out how ridiculous it is that such a person hadn’t found someone to love them yet. This question becomes less and less flattering the older one gets, and starts to feel a bit pointed. One might even start to internalize such a question, especially after a sixth or seventh failed first date in a week.

Why are you still single?

I have asked myself that question more times than I care to admit, sometimes out of frustration, sometimes out of anger, sometimes as an attempt at levity. But since I have asked it so many times, I have come up with a few answers, too.

I am super involved in my work. Not my day job, mind you (sorry, guys), but my theatrical work. I have missed out on potential dates and screwed up young potential romances because my love for the theatre comes first. I have to go to rehearsals. I cannot miss performances. And yes, I would often rather be at home reading Shakespeare or preparing for an audition than out with someone I don’t know eating a salad and making small talk about his relatives who I can’t decide yet whether or not I should devote brain space to remembering their names and birthdays. Because if we’re only going out this once, I don’t really care how many times your cousin has been married. Actually, until I meet your cousin, I won’t care how many times he has been married, and will likely continue to not care after I’ve met him because it’s not my place to have an opinion about such things. So yes, I put theatre first. Which might make me single.

On the other hand, I know a lot of married theatre people.

I am vegan. Have been for nearly fifteen years. Now, one would think that it would be as simple as finding a vegan guy to be with and poof! We can have cute little vegan babies and raise them on tofu and supplements. Thing is, I am the least judgmental vegan you will ever meet. I know that veganism is my choice, and it does not have to be everyone else’s. Do I secretly wish more people were vegan so we’d have better options on menus and in footwear? Yes, I absolutely do, because being vegan rocks. But I also know that not everybody’s body chemistry can handle it, so I tend to go for more of an “I’ll take what I can get” approach. And every time I find myself out with a non-vegan guy, I flash to that moment in Pulp Fiction where Samuel L. Jackson is excited to eat a burger because his girlfriend is vegan which basically means he is, too. I wouldn’t want to be that girlfriend. My favorite definition of veganism is “not subjecting animals to human desires.” How can I then subject another human being to my desires for their entire lifestyle? That just feels wrong to me. But on the other hand, because I am a non-judgmental vegan, I’m not hardcore enough for some vegan men out there — I’m not vocal enough or enough of an activist or whatever — and we would spend our lives together with him disappointed that I wasn’t giving more. So finding the vegan boyfriend is not as easy as it looks.

On the other hand, I know plenty of couples wherein person has different dietary restrictions than the other.

I am not a religious person. I am spiritual, yes, but not religious. I don’t know if you have seen those videos where they reduce the world’s population to 100 people to point out the statistics — of the 100 people, 52 would be women and 48 would be men, that kind of thing. In those cute little animations, you’ll see that only about 18% of the world is agnostic. Now, I’m not saying I would shy away from a partner with religious leanings. It would mean we’d have to talk about how to raise our kids, but it’s a conversation we could have. But would a very religious man want to be with me? Hell, consider the orthodox Jewish Community in New York and the fact that those men aren’t even allowed to look at me, and my odds of finding a husband start to plummet. So again, my spiritual beliefs may be contributing to my singleness.

On the other hand, I know lots of married people who are of different faiths than their partners.

I am an introvert. No, this does not mean I’m shy and anti-social. At least not all of the time. If you need more context on introversion (and why actually, it’s kind of a superpower), Google Susan Cain. Her book is great. Her Ted talk is great. Seriously, I’ll wait. That’s the lovely thing about the printed word — you can put down a book, go do something else, and the words will still be there when you get back. Anyway, I am an introvert, which means I find other people exhausting. I need time without people to recharge so I’m ready for the next onslaught. Now, most people in romantic relationships tend to like to be with their partners. All of the time. Some even get separation anxiety. Those relationships do not work for me — I get very cranky very quickly and start to resent both my partner and myself. So one might argue that I should be with an introvert so we both get it. The potential problem with introvert-introvert romances (that I have learned first hand) is that both parties are equally happy not spending time together, so things just fizzle. I don’t want to be the one responsible for reaching out and making plans, and neither does he, so neither of us does. I had one guy say to me once, “It’s not really dating if we only see each other once a month, is it?” I had to agree. We finished our dinner, I went home, and a few months later, he was dating a more extroverted friend of mine.

On the other hand, at least two of the best relationships I know are between an introvert and an extrovert.

I suffer from depression. Have since I was about fourteen. I’m not going to go into the full brunt of it, though there are times I think I may be bipolar as opposed to straight up depressive because when I’m feeling good, I’m feeling GOOD. It can be very emotionally taxing to be with someone who is bipolar. I get that. Bipolarism runs in my family and I know the kind of hard work and dedication it can take. I also believe in honesty and find myself wondering if I should tell potential partners up front that there are days I will not leave my apartment, days I will just want to cry, days when the voices inside my head keep trying to tell me how much easier everything would be if I stopped existing. And then I think, no, that is probably best saved for the second date, which I never get to because I couldn’t get past the insipid conversation about getting the floors redone in the house he just bought which is nowhere near anywhere I would ever like to live so obviously this relationship will go nowhere. So it doesn’t come up, but it is there, making me second guess my every move and giving me panic attacks every time I go meet someone for coffee.

On the other hand, bipolarism runs in my family and I literally would not exist if someone hadn’t fallen in love and started a family with someone who was bipolar.

I am not a size two. I’m just not. Never have been, never will be. And while I would like to think myself superwoman, the messages that women are bombarded with every day as we walk down the street that tell us we have to be thin and fit with perfect skin and glossy hair have gotten to me over the years. I have spent way too much time and energy trying to make myself look like someone or something else. But the funny thing about that is, Sarah Jessica Parker has often been lauded for not getting a nose job — she looks distinctive, so she stood out in casting calls. And for all of the men I have known in my life, I have only ever met one who said he honestly preferred really tiny women so he could “toss them around in bed.” Most of the heterosexual men I have talked to like a woman with boobs and hips — it is what attracts them physically to their partners. So it must be the scars on my face that are keeping potential partners away, right? Except my honorary sister didn’t even know I had any. I have spent years hiding behind my less than perfect appearance as the number one reason I don’t have a partner.

On the other hand, I know people of all shapes, sizes, colors, ages, ability levels, hair colors, eye colors, and shoe sizes who have found partners.

The thing is this: if you are looking for excuses for why you are single, you will find them. There are a million and one reasons why you might be single. For me, at this point in my life, there is just one.

I have chosen this.

I prefer to be single, because I choose not to be a size two. I choose not to buy into someone else’s religion if it doesn’t speak to me. I choose to live a vegan lifestyle. I choose to throw myself 100% into my work. I choose to embrace and honor my introversion. I don’t necessarily choose to be bipolar, but it chose me. And were I to change any of these things to be the person someone else wanted me to be, I would cease to be me. Above all, I’m not ready to cease being me. So until such time as I find someone who embraces all of these things about me, I will remain single.

What I can say to you is, make a list of all of the things you have ever told yourself are keeping you single. Then look around and find people who share those same traits but have relationships until you can cross each and everyone one of those things off of your list. Embrace who you are, with or without a relationship because I’m guessing you are pretty awesome, and I would hate to see you lose that awesome for someone less than worthy. You can do it. I’ll wait, and will still be here when you’re ready to proceed.

Things People in Relationships Should Never Say to a Single Person

Part 1

What not to say: “You just haven’t found the right person.”

Thank you, Captain Obvious, I never would have figured this out without you! The problem with this statement is that it sounds like a comparative statement between you and me. You found the right person. I didn’t. And why is your right person right for you, but all of the people with whom I’ve gone on dates have not been the right people for me? Actually, scratch that. I know why they weren’t the right people. But you get the idea. We already know that this is the core issue — it’s not comforting to point it out.

What to say instead: “How about them Cubbies?”

What not to say: “Nobody out there is good enough for you, and it’s good that you’re not willing to settle.”

Again, with the comparative statements, except this one is worse because it is also isolating and self-deprecating. The first half of the sentence is meant to pump someone up, I know — you’re so great, you’re on a level all by yourself! But it is lonely at the top. Or on the side. Or wherever this other level is where great single people exist. (Side note: are these other levels where great single people exist like parallel universes? And are we each in one of our own? Because if there was a singular level for great single people, why aren’t we all running into each other all the time? Why aren’t there more of us? For as often as I hear this statement, there is a surprising lack of actual people on the same level as me, so I’m thinking we are each stuck in our own parallel universe levels and therefore doomed to never meet. Like our worlds are one second out of sync with each other. There’s a brilliant sci-fi tragedy idea for you. Copyright me, if it hasn’t been done before.) Not one single single person wants to fall into a category entirely their own where they become completely untouchable to all other human beings. Who wants that? Would you want that? Why are you trying to imply that I am that? And then the second half of the statement is self-deprecating, especially when it comes from someone who is not single because it means you settled. You settled for less than you deserve, you compromised your morals, you lowered your standards, whatever, so that you could be with someone. If you are my very dear friend, and I look up to you and your relationship as a beacon of hope that good relationships do exist out there, this is a really depressing statement to learn that you gave up a piece of yourself to be with someone who you consider to be less than, but who I consider to be amazeballs. If you think your partner is sub-par, can I have them? Really. Wanna trade?

What to say instead: “That Kris Bryant is a looker, isn’t he? Despite the resemblance to Zac Efron.”

What not to say: “I know plenty of people who have found their life partners later in life — in their sixties and seventies.”

Stop. This is not comforting. At all. Nobody wants to know that they have another twenty to fifty years of being single ahead of them before they might finally find someone worthwhile, knowing that the time they have together could only be ten to twenty years before one or the other of you croaks. Every single story out there, every single movie out there, shows us how gorgeous it is to be able to spend the majority of your life with someone you love who loves you back. How come I may only get ten years with someone? And why do I have to spend so much time on my own before I find this person? What were they doing all this time that they couldn’t find me sooner? Am I actually their second (or third or twelfth) life partner choice? Why did it take them so long to figure that out?

What to say instead: “The Bryant/Rizzo/Ross relationship is just darling, isn’t it? Though it’s kind of sad that they called Ross ‘grandpa’ even though he’s not even forty.”

What not to say: “Your mom/dad/sister/brother/best friend loves you very much.”

Thank you. We know. It’s not the same thing, though, and please stop trying to convince us that it is. It’s like saying, “I really want an ice cream brownie sundae,” and having someone reply, “But you have carrots and celery and baked beans and tomatoes, so you should be happy.” Yes, they are all food products. But there is no way that celery, carrots, baked beans, and tomatoes will ever make a person stop craving an ice cream brownie sundae, no matter what the diet plans try to tell you. And it’s not that carrots and celery and baked beans and tomatoes don’t nourish your soul and taste good and make you feel like you’re doing your body a favor by consuming them — they absolutely do. But the ice cream brownie sundae is decadent and sweet and luscious in a way that veggies and legumes will never be. Not to mention the fact that you, Person in a Relationship, also have carrots and celery and baked beans and tomatoes, and you also get to indulge in an ice cream brownie sundae every night, and you know first hand that it fills a completely different set of needs, some of which will be discussed in a later chapter. So please stop using this as a statement of comfort.

What to say instead: “Did you see the size of those Cubs World Series rings?”

What not to say: “You just need to put yourself out there.”

Out where? Out on the internet? Out in traffic? Out in a field? This one can either be a wake up call or very annoying. For those single people who never leave the house or interact with other human beings, who have never said, “Hey, I have a crush on you” to anyone or signed up for one of the eight bajillion online dating services out there, it might have the ring of truth to it. For those of us who have filled our non-dating time with other activities like dancing or playing darts or joining a fantasy football league or signing up for seven bajillion of the eight bajillion online dating services out there, it is a dismissive statement. Being single does not automatically mean one is a hermit or lonely or anti-social — I’ve got a whole chapter on this topic coming soon. Being single simply means one is not in a romantic relationship. Single people can lead very active lives, and do lots of things whereat they meet lots of different people. The insinuation that because these activities have not netted a romantic relationship implies that either A) the single person hasn’t been doing these things enough; B) the single person hasn’t been trying to take full advantage of the unsuspecting other single people at these events upon whom he or she could prey; or C) there are lots of other single people out there just waiting to be preyed upon, which, as we all know, is not true as the vast majority of people over the age of 22 have paired up with somebody. And/or they are not of the sexual orientation that would make them receptive to being preyed upon by said single person.

What to say instead: “Now that the curse is broken, how many series do you think they’ll win in a row?”

What not to say: “You just need to keep trying.”

Why? Insanity has been defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I don’t care if it was Einstein or Franklin or Twain who said it, I think it rings true. After a certain number of failed attempts at something that brings nothing but misery, I think it is totally fine to try something else or throw in the towel and stop trying altogether.

What to say instead: “We know Wrigley is the best ballpark overall, but which major league baseball stadium do you think has the best vegan snack options?”

What not to say: “There is someone out there for you, and I have faith that you will find the person God created for you.”

Barf.

Not only is this imposing your beliefs on me, but it also presumes that you know God’s plan better than she does. Maybe she wants me to be single because I’m “meant” for something else. Did you ever think about that?”

What to say instead: “If you got to sing the seventh inning stretch at Wrigley, what would you say to the crowd right before you started singing? Full-on Harry Caray impression, or something else?”

What not to say: “You’re too picky.”

Fuck that. Not gonna settle. I am a glittery unicorn that poops rainbows and I deserve to be with my own kind.

What to say instead: “I’m going to the Cubs game today. You wanna go with me?”

You Are Not Alone

Aside from being an exciting and ominous line in Doctor Who, it is the truth. Being single and being alone are not the same thing. They can overlap, but in the broadest sense of the terms, they are very, very different.

Being single means you are not in a committed romantic relationship.

Being alone can either mean you are not in any sort of relationship or friendship or acquaintanceship with anyone, or it can mean there is no one else in the same physical location as you at the same time as you. For example, I am technically alone in my apartment right now as I am writing this (aside from my cat, which means I am actually not alone). In the grander sense of the term, however, I am not alone because I have some of the most amazing friends in the world, a loving and supportive family, and the aforementioned cat who makes sure I wake up every morning. There are literally dozens of people out there to whom it matters that I exist. I am not alone. My guess is that you are not, either.

Quick side note: if you are alone — if you have no family, no friends, no connections, I am sorry. That is fixable, if you want it to be — you can join a club or start a club or go back to school or say hello to that person at work who seems pretty groovy. Or hell, start seeing a therapist who can help you work through some of the stuff that may be preventing you from forming connections with others. I am not a therapist, I don’t pretend to understand your circumstances, but I can empathize that you may get lonely from time to time. This is not the series to read to work through that. There are tons of them out there, but this is not one of them. This is a series on how to be single, not on how to avoid being alone. If you want to find a happy medium and learn how to be single while not being alone, there might be some good stuff in here for you. Or, at the very least, thank you for clicking on my series and reading this far. That means something to me, which is maybe the first step to not being alone? Which is groovy. But I am an introvert, so if it takes a while for me to respond to your emails and tweets and texts, that’s why. I don’t really like people. But I’m glad you’re reading!

That took an odd turn.

Anyway, being single versus being alone.

I think, as a culture, we tend to think they are the same thing. Often times, when a romantic relationship ends, or when one fails to start, we can start thinking we are all alone in the universe, that no one will ever love us, and that our lives are doomed to be empty and lonely and meaningless. I have been single for approximately 93% of my life, and my life is not empty, nor lonely, nor meaningless. I go out and am social quite often — sometimes more frequently than I would like. I travel, I perform, I see movies, I see plays, I go for walks, I visit museums, I go out dancing, I dine in restaurants, I have friends for whom I would do anything at the drop of a hat, who would (and do) do the same for me. All of these things that I have done, I have done with someone and I have done by myself. And because of all of these things, I have led a very full, rich, meaningful life. All the while being single. I think it is important to make a distinction between being single and being alone because then being single isn’t quite so scary. The life of a single person is not one of solitude, lacking in human interaction, lacking in physical contact. The life of a single person can be extremely fulfilling, and include all sorts of relationships. It is simply missing the committed romantic relationship that film, television, magazines, story books, and family gatherings all tell us we are supposed to have and supposed to want. It is okay to not have one. It is okay to not want one.

I, myself, have never really had one. I have tried. Believe you me, I have tried to have a committed romantic relationship, but they don’t work, they don’t make me happy, and I don’t like who I become when I start getting into one, so I decided to stop trying. I’ve referenced it before and will likely reference it again, but insanity has been defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. If I keep trying to be in romantic relationships, and the end result is that I am consistently unhappy in them, maybe the fault lies in expecting my life to be better with a romantic partner in it.

In fairness, I have tried lots of different methods of becoming not single. I have tried Match, Craigslist, eHarmony, Tinder, Bumble, OK Cupid, Hinge, speed dating, nerd dating, and even the good old fashioned approaching someone you know through some sort of social circle (for me, swing dancing, theatre, and regular hanging out in the same bar type circles) to try to find people to date. I have dated men older than me, younger than me, of the same ethnic background, of different ethnic backgrounds, of the same belief systems, of different religions, and of all sorts of different levels of neediness, and I have found them all to have one thing in common. They all drain me of everything I have to give — emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I’ve had the sense to not get financially invested in someone else’s drama, because none of these encounters have lasted long enough for that to become an issue, though I did have one guy offer to help me pay my rent when I was in a bit of a bind. I didn’t take him up on that because I knew the relationship wouldn’t last and I didn’t want to have that sort of obligation holding us together. But I think being drained of those other things is far worse and far more difficult to recover from than settling a financial debt once the relationship has ended.

I have never dated an outright abusive man. And I have really only dated men. But I dated a man who was so afraid to learn new things or to experience life on his own, who was so dependent on having a partner that he wouldn’t even rent a movie he had never seen before by himself. I dated another man who’s band had recently broken up and most of the time we spent together was spent with him telling me stories of the band’s glory days, me trying to comfort his wounds and encouraging him to keep pursuing his art, and him never encouraging me to pursue mine. And for an introvert who finds being around people generally exhausting to begin with, having to take care of a romantic partner who does not know how to take care of me, nor who is interested in figuring out how to take care of me, nor who listens when I tell him how to take care of me (sample conversation: “I’m not coming over on my one free evening this week because I need to do laundry and not be around people and it has nothing to do with you but I need some time to recharge and no, I swear I’m not cheating on you, if I don’t have time to see you how would I possibly have time to cheat on you are we really having this conversation and yes, okay, if you want to come hang out while I’m doing my laundry that’s fine, but is it okay if we don’t talk and don’t sit in the same room because I really need this one night that I have off this week to recharge for what I have going on the rest of the week”), these relationships are just plain exhausting. And I have better things to do with my time.

So I have chosen to be single. I have chosen to stop looking for something society tells me I should have but that makes me miserable. This does not make me a loner. This does not mean I am alone. It means I am who I am on my terms. Until the day I meet someone who can keep up with me, who makes me more than who I am on my own, I will choose to remain single. Because I choose not to give up everything I have to make someone else feel better who does not make me feel better. Is that selfish? Maybe. I’m okay with that, though.

I am not alone.

You are not alone.

Singleness is not solitude.

Singleness is a brilliant, loving relationship with yourself.

How to Go to the Movies While Single

It occurs to me that lots of single people have questions about how to do simple things on their own that one normally thinks about doing with someone else. So for the sake of this series, I will provide step-by-step instructions on how to do some of these things that you can use as a reference guide, should you need them.

First up, going to the movies.

1.Pick a movie you would like to see. It can be helpful to watch loads of television to catch the previews for what is coming out (or very recently out, because let’s be honest, once a film opens, they kind of stop advertising it unless it becomes a #1 or is up for awards. This says a lot about our culture, but that’s another book.) I hear Wonder Woman is pretty good.

2. Choose a time to see said movie that works with your schedule. What is particularly lovely at this stage is that you don’t have to factor in anyone else’s schedule. If you want to go to the 1:20 show on a Thursday because it is cheaper, you can go to the 1:20 show on Thursday. Provided you don’t have work or other responsibilities at that time.

3. Find a mode of transportation that will get you to the movie theatre in time to purchase a ticket, get snacks, use the restroom, and find a seat before the movie starts. This time can vary, depending on your dedication to previews.

4. Arrive at said theatre via said mode of transportation.

5. Purchase a ticket for said movie. Now, there are a couple of ways to do this. If you are on your game and have purchased your ticket online in advance, you can skip this step. You just have to get it from the machine. If you are banking on the scarcity of movie-going crowds at 1:20pm on a Thursday (which, let’s be honest, you’ll win that bet every time), you can either purchase tickets from the seventeen year olds sitting behind bulletproof glass who want nothing more in life than to sell you a ticket to Daddy Daycare 3, or you can avoid people altogether by purchasing from the automated machine that are usually just to the left of the actual ticket windows. I tend to go for avoiding human interaction. That’s not what i’m here for. I’m here to watch a movie, not to make friends.

6. Use the restroom. This is important, especially for those of us with small bladders. Plus, if you purchase snacks before using the restroom, you will have to find somewhere to put them in the restroom where you can be reasonably sure they will not be peed on or stolen while you evacuate your bladder. And let’s be honest, if this is your first time going to the movies on your own, you probably did some pre-gaming and it’s time to break the seal because there is no way you’re leaving in the middle of Luke Skywalker’s big comeback to go pee. Pee before the movie.

7. Get snacks. Honestly, get snacks. There is nobody with you who might judge your dietary choices at this moment. If you want chocolate and nachos and a hot dog, go for it! The majority of the ticket price goes to the movie studio, while concession sales go to the theatre. Seriously. If you want to support your local indie movie theatre, buy snacks.

8. Find the right theatre for the movie you want to see. Let’s not theatre hop, kids, okay? Go see the movie you paid for. Especially if you’re at a theatre with two screens.

9. Pick a seat. Now, this can be the best part or the most nerve wracking part, depending on your personality and the density of the crowd already in the theatre. What is lovely about this part is that you don’t have to take anyone else’s opinions into consideration. If you like the front, sit in the front. If you like the middle, sit in the middle. What can be nerve wracking about it is if there are lots of people already in the theatre and the only spot left is a single seat between two couples in the back row. On the up side, you will most likely get both of those armrests. On the down side, you have to crawl over everyone else if you need to get up in the middle of the movie. Which is why it is important to pee first.

9.1 One way to avoid the potentially nerve wracking side to this conundrum is to get to the theatre stupid early. Which means budgeting in more time, but if your phone battery is fully charged, does it matter if you spend that extra fifteen minutes at home reading, or could you finish that chapter in the theater with a box of Raisinets at the ready? Unless you keep Raisinets in your house at all times, I think the choice is clear. If you do keep Raisinets in your house at all times, I salute you.

10. Watch the movie. Laugh if something strikes you funny. Cry if something makes you sad.

11. When the movie is over, leave. And you know the old adage, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” You are welcome to watch the credits or not watch the credits or stop at the bathroom on your way out, or pick up another snack for the ride home, whatever you want to do. You don’t have to rush out because your companion is going to be late for dinner. Or you can choose to rush out so you can beat the crowd. Whatever you want to do. You are beholden to no one.

And congratulations! You’ve done it! You’ve gone to the movies by yourself!

This truly is one of those things that gets easier the more you do it, so I suggest you practice often. You’ll get the hang of it.

Have fun!