Throughout my life, I've had many acquaintances but few buddies. This is due to choice and circumstance: the former because I learned the hard way that everyone who smiles in my face isn't my friend, and the latter because my occupation involves working crazy hours.
My parents have expressed concern about my well-being because I tend to do activities by myself instead of with another person or a group. On several occasions, my mother has told me that I need to find my soulmate soon or else I'll become an "old maid." The irony of my predicament is I'm not anti-social; if anything, I'm outgoing. Besides, being single doesn't phase me ... and I'd rather use my free time to pursue my interests -- not pine away for someone of the opposite sex.
The rotating shifts at my job leave me with an erratic social life. Depending on my schedule, I enjoy going to Bowlmor Lanes on Mondays ... but I also like to in-line skate at Central Park or Prospect Park during the summer. If the diversion involves passive participation, I'll check out the male revue at Webster Hall on Thursdays or visit the Museum of Modern Art on Fridays.
Whenever I go out, my goal is to have fun. It would be nice if I met someone worth dating, but it's not the be-all-and-end-all of my existence. I'm not interested in having a boyfriend just for the sake of having a boyfriend, nor am I looking for someone to "complete me," since I'm already whole.
I don't mind leading a solitary life because it means I'm not beholden to anyone. Being an individual isn't the same as being isolated, for I'm still engaged in the world around me. It's been said that you find love when you least expect it; therefore, I won't look for it -- I'll let it come to me. (As an aside, experience has shown me that even when that happens, emotions have a way of complicating situations.)
Contrary to the Three Dog Night song, one isn't the loneliest number -- it's the ultimate symbol of independence.
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