I LOVE being single. I don’t know exactly what it is, but being single makes me want to go out and run, fast, with a smile on my face. And then take a shower with music on as I joyfully lufa my body. I’m selfish right now, I don’t want to feel obligated to share my time with any specific boy. I enjoy taking care of myself, FOR MYSELF… Not with the lingering idea that I have to shave my legs for someone else’s enjoyment as well. This isn’t to say that I don’t shave my legs, I just shave them for me.
I love waking up in MY bed, to eat the cereal that I bought, and although I’d totally share my cereal with a cute boy, I don’t know how much I enjoy sharing my bed because then you get that stigma. That empty feeling stemming from how a warm body once lie there and now it’s just cold sheet across the bed from you. (This happens even if you don’t particularity like the person.) Well… across the bed from me is, very simply: more heavenly bedding. Not loneliness or sad, cold sheets.
When you’re single, every day is like a brand new adventure. Not that it can’t be when you’re part of an “item”, but the twists and turns in the single life are faster and more exciting. At a party to a friend, “Ooo who is THAT!?” and receiving questions such as, “Can I ask you to write down your number for me?” or “Ooo baby your daddy is a thief… he stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes.” It’s all so lovely, I’m just not willing to give it up.
Hopefully this approach and feeling of content doesn’t push away potential, passionate love affairs that come my way. I’m open to passionate love, but somehow I think he may have his work cut out for him.
I am donating blood tomorrow, NOT going to John Mayer, and AM needing some sleep. Nighty night babes.