Being single really isn’t all that bad.
In many ways it’s preferable to being committed. You are the sole decision maker. You choose where your time goes and who you choose to spend that time with. You can focus on work and your new gym routine. You can try and learn the guitar and make it to your weekly girl’s night. You never have to share the remote or do anyone else’s dishes or let someone make you late because they’re taking an overwhelmingly long shower.
You are in complete control of your life and it’s the absolute best.
In fact, it’s quite rare that I feel bummed about not having a partner. But lately it’s all I’ve been thinking about. I actually put makeup on to go to the gym the other day just in case. I simply cannot get it out of my head.
And it’s all because of my new book.
I have this book, see. And it looks incredible – but it also looks fucking scary. And I know myself well enough to know that by the time I get home and dive into reading it, it’ll be dark and late and the floorboards will start creaking and I’ll convince myself that tonight is the night someone smashes through my window and puts a gun to my head. And the next thing you know its 5 a.m. and I haven’t slept a wink because I’m so fucking scared of this book.
But I also know myself well enough to know I won’t be able to stop. I just know it’s going to be one of those books that hooks you to the point you can’t separate your real life from this fictional one. So, you end up spiralling into this endless cycle of sleepless nights and cancelled plans and then you come home to a night in and, because you’re home, end up READING and embark on yet another night of tossing and turning and lying there staring at the window, waiting to be killed.
If I had a boyfriend, I could read my book and go to bed being held by someone who would scare away the crazy (imaginary) gunman.
I want a boyfriend because all I want to do is read my book. After I’m done, they can leave if they so choose and I’ll go back to my life of uninterrupted plans and beautiful friendships and hogging the sheets as much as I want.
I’m scheduling my life around a book.
And maybe this is embarrassing – and I guess if we’re being honest here, maybe this is part of the reason I DON’T have a boyfriend. But, embarrassing or not, I think it’s quite a compliment to the author that her unread book has impacted my life this much. It has made me question my values, reschedule my daily routine and prioritize a part of my life that doesn’t deserve priority.
Geez louise. If it’s impacted my life this much already, just wait until I read it.
Leah Ruehlicke lives in a tiny apartment downtown Toronto with bad water pressure and an amazing book collection. Read more from her on Twitter.