For the past four months I have been single.
I should say, I have been happily single.
Earlier this year I left a really terrible relationship and struck out on my own. I didn’t want to be in a suffocating and controlling romantic partnership anymore, so I packed my stuff and hit the road. Obviously it was more dramatic than all that, but in a nutshell, this is how I choose to remember things. Since then, I’ve been figuring out myself and my place in the world as a single female. It’s been a great break from the added stress and pressures of being in a relationship. It’s also been the absolute best case scenario for timing – because nothing is grosser than being in a romantic relationship in the dead of summer. When I recall summer romances, I think of how wet and sweaty they were. I rarely can consider anything besides how gross our bodies felt when we tried to cuddle or be close to each other. I have flashbacks to the terrible, sweaty nights of sweltering heat as I tried uselessly to fall asleep with a burning hot body next to me. All these past experiences of wet, stinky bodies certainly hasn’t inspired me to get out on the town this past summer. I’ve been joyously sleeping alone, basking in the air conditioning, cold sheets, and box fan that make me fall right to sleep. I have had no desire to add human heat to this mix while the cicadas have been singing. It’s shallow to say that the weather influences my love life, however, now that the weather is cooling down my temperature and relationship preferences are also changing.