Simply D.L.

Gripe Being Single

Out of hiatus I hibernate. My motivation? There were two classmates in my English discussion classes who talked about writing in their blogs. Their boldness and enthusiasm to share that in class revived me to begin writing my blog. So here I am, hoping I will be able to update this blog on a regular beat. But at the least, I update my webcomic Deadend every Thursday and now it’s on comicgenesis, which is much cleaner than drunkduck.com but still under construction.

In my earlier post, I wrote about being single as a good thing. A single could manage his own time and money, enjoy his hobbies, and ultimately, discover his identity.

But, as for me, however, almost at the ripe age of 22…

I haven’t dated. And yes, I know how I wrote it is good to be single and why, but I yearn to feel her head resting on my shoulder and wrap my arms around her and plant a kiss on her forehead. And I feel such envy and depression as I find myself counting how many couples I saw on campus (average: 5). And if the sight of couples bothers you, I have one word of advice: avoid going to the mall; there is a much higher number of them. But lately, this counting habit has deteriorated, but I do get a chill down my spine when I see one.

I get desperate; I browse through online personals. It’s ironic because I will never bother to go through the free seven-day trial (but I did once, nothing happened) and just look at pictures as if it is a good luck charm that I’ll meet a lovely gal tomorrow. According to my personal statistics (source: skeptical cynicism), she could be something totally different from what she wrote in her paragraphs and what pictures she posted. And I much, much rather prefer to meet her in person.

Well, one thing I’m glad about my dateless years is I’m spared of those immature relationships. And I saved enough money to send my future children to college, but instead that was spent on my college education (e.g. food).

I understand that yes, to wait is important much as I hate that word because people would spoon me that word like Castor oil whenever I mention about my dateless life. After this long period of waiting, yes, I must be cautious of whom I date. Maybe she’ll come into my life in a few years, in a few months, or maybe, maybe in a few days (fingers crossed).

Secretly, I wish there was someone who obnoxiously bragged about being in a relationship and how great it is because it would offer me a plausible excuse to punch him in the stomach and spoon him some Castor oil mixed with vegetable oil.