The close conversation had reached that point where we had run out of superficial, cheery things to say. I wrung my hands as a thought forced itself into speech: I had been afraid that saying it aloud would make a tentative idea more real than it actually was, but I couldn’t help it, it had been haunting me for too long:
“Um, I don’t know,” I began slowly. “I think, more than anything, I want to be in a relationship. I know that’s a lame thing to say…I believe in feminism and independence and all that, but…it’s true.”
I lowered my head and blushed as my friend reassured me, but I couldn’t help but taste the aftertaste of a remark that was not articulated finely enough. Because, in truth, I enjoy being single. I like going to concerts and kissing strangers without worrying about someone back home. I like quiet moments by myself. And I see people constantly holding hands, constantly spending the night in each others’ dorms and I think: I don’t want that. I don’t want all of that, at least not all the time.
But I definitely want something. Continue reading