As popular media and my circle of friends would have one believe, I should be married, or at least attached by mid-thirties. Well, I ain’t.

Oh, sure there are reasons. I am a little quirky and a little picky and then there is God’s timing; etcetera. I admit that being married would suit me rather nicely most days. However, there are many perks to the other side. So to those of you who are just as single as me, and for those who have forgotten what their previous life was like, I present:

(If you really want someone who knows how to craft a list, I highly recommend Listful Thinking.  She’s pretty great.)

The Rather Delightful Joys of Singlehood

• Remote controls: TV- mine. Stereo- mine. DVD player- mine.
• A complete and utter absence of anything Sex and the City or Gilmore Girls related.
• My bathroom counter consists of deodorant, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, and shaving cream. That’s it. Fin.
• I know exactly how much gas is in my car.
• My cat can hop on the kitchen counter or the stove and nobody cares.
• Number of diapers I have changed in my life: 0. (Though my cat does her best to fill the litter box. Often.)
• The phrase “in-laws”? Meaningless to me.
  

  Yes, I have a retail spin-rack full of comics.

• Valentine’s Day: Null and void.
• I can wake up at 4 a.m. Nobody cares.
• I can go to bed at 1 a.m. Nobody cares.
• I can do laundry at 2 a.m. Nobody cares except perhaps my upstairs neighbors and they’re plenty loud, thanks.
• I have never uttered the word “redecorate”.
• I haven’t bought a mattress since the Clinton Presidency.
• Suit and ties? An once-a-year event. Maybe.
• Y’know those four rows right in the middle of the grocery store? I just walk right by them.
• When I do laundry, I use one, and only one setting.
• It takes me two months to use a roll of toilet paper. (Yes, I actually kept track. Don’t judge.)
• Nobody comes into the bathroom, raises and eyebrow, and asks, “What are you doing?” when I decide to measure toilet paper consumption.
• My furniture is 80% hand-me-downs.
• I can work a 17-hour day and it doesn’t inconvenience anyone.
• I had a year where I wrote over a hundred short stories.
• Yes, I have seen that movie. And that one. And that one too.
• I have yet to utter the phrase, “Oh, I haven’t seen that episode yet. I’m waiting for ___ to catch up.” Or “I’m waiting for them; I’m not allowed to watch it yet.”
• Say it with me now: Weekday matinees.
• I jog at my own pace.
• If I want seconds, I’m havin’ ‘em.
  

  All the basic food groups: pie, pot pie, pizza pie, ice cream, and frozen veggies

• No obligation to share the last brownie.
• My phone is on maybe five hours a day; minimal recharging required.
• I don’t have to argue with my wife about why we’ve exceeding our data plan. Again.
• Cat hair on the couches? No worries.
• If I want to watch an entire season of TV on a Sunday afternoon, nobody knows.
• I can hug whoever I want, take whoever I want to coffee, or compliment whoever I please without worrying about jealousy or proper behavior.
• I don’t turn on the heat in my apartment.
• No need to share dresser or closet space.
• I do, in fact, drink out of the carton. Every time.
• I know who is supposed to pay what bills. (It’s me, in case you were wondering.)
• I don’t have to pretend to be nice to that friend that’s important to her but I honestly can’t understand what she seems in them.
• No obligatory school reunions and no work parties.
• No crying children.
• No daycare.
• No college tuition.
• No PTA meetings.
• No soccer practice.
• I know all the books on hold at the library will fit in one bag.
• I know the balance of my bank account.
• No consultation required to get a haircut.
• No, I didn’t dust this week. Or last.
• I have time to read Dickens. And that guy likes to use lots of words, darnit.
• I have a Batman blanket in the living room and a Batman pillow case on my bed. Also, a Batman mobile.
• The hood of my car has a giant, 2×2 foot Superman symbol on it. And a silly bumper sticker.
• Cereal for days, kiddos.
• My cat’s loyalty is to me and me alone. No split custody, here.
• I can cry at Pitch Perfect and Frequency and no one will ever know. Wait. No! I’d never! I mean… Umm… Well, spit.
• No candles.
  

  My mail “system”

• No perfume.
• Nothing pink.
• There is no need to memorize a drink like “a decaf grande soy mocha with no whip, no foam, extra hot, with cinnamon sprinkles on top.”   (She knows who she is.)
• There is still a chance I could run off with Anna Kendrick or Sandra Bullock. Not a big chance, but it’s there.
• Being an uncle: all the fun, a fraction of the work.
• Never having to move to a different apartment or, even scarier, a house.
• No lugging around cribs or jumbo-sized diaper bags. (But this one wouldn’t be so bad.)
• Never having to hear, “You’re not wearing that, are you?” Or the worse version, “You’re not wearing that. Are you?”
• Going on a trip consists of packing one bag and leaving for the airport whenever you please.

And yes, I admit that I would give up many of those freedoms for the one I love.  But for now, I heartily enjoy them.  Maybe I can cling to some of the loftier goals, but maybe it will all go horribly awry.