Nothing says, “I went left when I should have gone right” more than waking up in the clothes you went out in the night before — your pockets stuffed with receipts that document the trail of bad decisions you made yestereve. And it’s during those mornings — where breakfast is five motrin, a large iced coffee, and a side of Catholic-induced, what-the-hell-did-I-do guilt — that I longingly pine for the quiet evenings I used to spend watching DVR’ed episodes of Top Chef, canoodling on the couch with my girlfriend, and going to bed in appropriate apparel (oh, and I also spend those hungover mornings calling American Express to cancel my credit card, because I am an adult undone by his lack of a relationship). Here’s truly what I miss now that I am stuck in the terrifying, booze-fueled world of singledom:
1. Being cutesy with my language. I used to spend the bulk of my days texting, g-chatting, and uttering too-sweet-to-be-true pet names to my gal, like: Cuddle Monkey, Sweetie Bear, Thunder Chicken, Baby Bunny Snarfles, and Sweetie Peetie Pie. Now the random chicks that wake up in my bed are lucky if I call them… an Uber. I would rather be asking the dame I share my sheets with, “What do you want to do today, Farfy,” instead of awkwardly asking, “When do you think we should, like, I don’t know, and it’s totally your call, part ways for the day, because, like I have some errands?”
2. Having weekend plans: Sure I was getting booted out of my bed for ridiculous trail runs at 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning by my gf or committing afternoons to convincing her that she didn’t look fat in jeans at Anthropologie. But guess what? It gave me structure and purpose, and I absolutely love the wonderful fragrances and indie pop that permeate that overly priced, upmarket clothing store for white girls. Now, I just spend my days off anxiously staring at my watch, wondering when it is appropriate to crack my first beer of the day. Take me back to the organic produce shopping at the farmer’s market, now! Yes, that’s a real plea.
3. Having sex: People love to lament the lack of sex in longterm relationships, but it’s far more frequent — and more meaningful — than singledom sex, which is like a USA Today article: short and uninteresting. And let’s be honest, those first few months of nonstop action in the relationship are like those amazingly low introductory Comcast rates. You know you shouldn’t be getting cable and Internet for so cheap — or doing the deed so much. And not that I am likening my old lady to a service provider, but don’t be afraid to hop on the proverbial phone and renegotiate that contract; gals, like Comcast reps, are receptive to your complaints and will change the terms of your plan (don’t have sex with an installation technician — I feel like the metaphor has been confused at this point).
4. Eating good food: I don’t know how girls have their finger on the pulse when it comes to new restaurants — maybe there’s some e-mail blast that goes out to ladies in relationships. But we always ate great meals. Sure, I was spending more than half my paycheck on a tasting-menu restaurant where one of the courses was saffron-infused lamb foam and sure, we had been dating for so long that we didn’t know what to say to each other for long stretches at a time during the meal, but, it’s way better than eating a burrito in my dimly lit living room, watching old episodes of Alf.
5. Being in love: Someone I respect once said, “Love is when everything, even something small and stupid and inconsequential, matters.” Couldn’t agree more. You and your partner have inside jokes that you love, but mean nothing to others. You playfully hit each other with pillows in the morning because why not, and it gives you joy. You boop each other on the nose and giggle at the silliness of a stupid little gesture. Now, I spend my days meaninglessly swiping left and right on my iPhone, executing military-grade evacuations from random apartments, and feigning interest in some girl’s story about her cat’s funny personality because I think it will lead to a makeout. One day, I hope to find another Snarfy Bunny who wants to drag me through clothing stores and vegan bakeries and force me to flip through Crate & Barrel catalogues — I just hope she lets me sleep in a little bit on Saturday, in appropriate going-to-bed clothes of course.