What I Actually Love About Being Single

It’s some weird stuff. Really.

I spend a good amount of time writing and bitching about dating. Oh, you didn’t notice? You must be new. But, I had a very joyful realization just now.

Because I’m single, I can stand in my living room at 3 o’clock in the afternoon on a Saturday and belt out Leonard Cohen and no one is there to think anything of it.

I realized that an untethered existence affords me the ability to live life according to my own rules.

My rules are very loose when it comes to what is acceptable behavior for me as a single, middle-aged woman.

And you know what? I don’t care. You know who is going to judge me? Not a god damned soul.

Before you think this is going to go down some torrid path of tales of indulgence and hedonism, I will stop you right there. I am no trollop. When I say loosely acceptable, I mean that shit gets weird. In a completely dorky, Liz Lemon kind of way. In a way that only people who live alone for a while later in life understand.

For example, I clean the house to records (yes, records) of old Broadway musicals. My house is not clean until I have run old of lemon scented Pledge and my voice is hoarse…