“The only day I ever wanted a girlfriend was on Sunday,” a friend informed me yesterday, staring at his girlfriend of two years with a content look on his face. It was, indeed, a Sunday. The couch across from me was overspilling with canoodling couples, enjoying their blissful afternoon of using each other as human pillows. My single tush was parked on the floor, nurturing her struggles with a macadamia chocolate chip cookie.
This was not the first time I had heard the Sunday Theory, in which the holy day of R&R seems to incite the basic need for companionship in even the most stone-hearted of individuals. But where does this leave the rest of the days of the week? Let’s take a look at the internal day-to-day monologue of being single, as derived from abundant personal experience!
Monday: (7AM) LIFE. AGAIN. This sucks. Everything sucks. Getting out of bed sucks. I just want somebody to hug me and dress me in bed, the way my mom did before sending me off to school. I MISS MY MOMMYYYYYYYYYYYY…….
(8PM) I survived, and now I get to go home and watch The Good Wife! Honestly, I’m happy nobody is there waiting for me, because then I would have to interact with them. And what if they didn’t want to watch The Good Wife with me? That would be a deal-breaker. Honestly, I’m so happy right now. God bless TV and whoever created it. (Somewhere in singleworld, there is a shrine to Farnsworth.)
Tuesday: (7AM) Boyfriend? What boyfriend? Who cares? There is one goal here, and that is to survive the rest of the week. At the end of the day, we all go through life alone, so how would a friggin boyfriend help? Also, if somebody touched me, I would probably punch them.
(8PM) Part of me does kind of wish I had somebody to inflict some of this pain on.. Anyway, is it too early to start drinking?
Wednesday: Life status: semi-stable. Relationship status: completely irrelevant. Should I cancel drink plans with that guy I met on Tinder on Sunday while feeling bad for myself? He seems like a complete loser. I should just save my energy for the weekend… Ok, date cancelled, barre class it is! God, I really have my shit together. I AM SO GOOD.
Thursday: God, I need a drink. I deserve a drink. Dinner with the girls? Date with the Tinder guy? I’m going to text everybody I know! Contact list, LET’S MAKE THIS HAPPEN!
Friday: (10AM) I’m way too old to be working on a hangover. Why oh why did I allow last night to happen? And now I have these random drink plans and I can’t even cancel last minute without looking like an ass. I really hope it rains…
(2PM) Is that a raindrop I see? ALL HAIL THE RAIN. Now I can definitely cancel, but it can’t be my idea.. Let me text these people and gauge their feelings on this.
(5PM) Everybody cancelled. Amen.
Saturday: (Noon) Sleep! I slept! The miracle of 8 hours of sleep! Let’s get these errands done! Who the hell needs a boyfriend when you have cool dinner plans? I’m making MEMORIES tonight. What are all the couples making? Babies, at max. That sounds exhausting..
Sunday: (11am) Sad. I just feel sad. Its getting cold, and all I want is to stay home and do nothing. This hangover hurts. My feet hurt. Why can’t somebody massage my feet? My feet are unmassagabe. I’m unlovable. Will anybody love me, ever?!
(2PM) I have two choices: stay home alone, do nothing and monitor my slow demise into an amoeba, or make plans. Making plans sounds like so much work. (Pick up phone, lethargically text people.) Does anybody want to do anything? No? Thank God. Me neither.
What if I just stay home and Tinder? Wouldn’t that kill two birds with one stone? This way, I get to stay home and change my life!
(8PM) Everyone on Tinder is so lame. Ooh, maybe this guy….