More often than not, I am super secure in being single and I like it that way. I like that I can come home from wherever, pour myself a glass of wine and veg out on the couch in the most disgusting pajama pants that I have...the ones that I got a billion years ago when Jer and I had just started dating. The ones that are so dingy that they make me feel like the slob supreme but they are so comfortable that I can't bear to throw them away. But the things I like about being single are not limited to pajamas. I mean, there's the obvious getting to flirt with cute boys that I know I will never in a million years go out with even if he asks me a thousand times. And then there is the fact that I can hang out with whoever I want whenever I want and I can avoid awkward "meeting of the family" moments and holiday gatherings. That is the biggest plus, I think.
Jer and I were just a little too comfortable. We got into a groove that was just...painfully mundane. Looking back, that is. At the time, I found comfort in the little things about being so close. Like, spending an entire evening holding hands on the couch (while wearing the exact same pajamas that I am wearing to protest relationships now) or having private jokes and exchanging meaningful glances across a crowded room. Those were great moments. And even now, I remember them with a fondness that sends a warmness to every part of me. But it was never like it was with J.
My relationship with J was the one I would go back and do all over. Every single moment of that relationship was full of intensity. When he walked into a room, my legs turned into cooked spaghetti noodles. When he looked at me, I melted. Every time. For years before we dated, it was like this. When he looked in my general direction, I turned a shade of red that I haven't even seen since he and I lost touch. I am fairly positive that I would see it again if I were to see him now. It's that pit-of-the-stomach sort of blissful nausea that I miss. That incredible urge to either run and hide or jump his bones right there in the middle of the movie theater.
I've started to wonder if I will feel that way about anyone ever again. And THAT is what sucks about being single. Not having that feeling is almost harder than putting up with someone else's family on Christmas. Even I, the one who doesn't want to get married or have any kids, like that feeling. Even I can admit that it sucks when you don't have what Carrie Bradshaw called the "Zsa Zsa Zsu".