Single in the City

One month ago, I was a college student, who happened to not have a boyfriend.

Now, I'm 'single.' A young, single adult. Filing my tax returns as a single person, signing up for insurance as a single person, and - what I dread most - attending church as a single person.

Before this morning, I had only attended church by myself one other time. I sat in the back that Sunday morning Freshman year, felt horrible and left immediately after the service concluded. Today was better, though, yet still not pleasant. For some reason, churches - which should be the most inviting and comfortable of places - can make someone feel incredibly isolated. Looking around at all the couples and families, us singletons in the back rows just try to blend into the pews.

But wait - How did I get here? A month ago, I was pulling all-nighters, writing crappy papers and staying up talking with my roommate. Now, I have to call the electric company in the morning, have had conversations with HR reps about 401(k)s and stock options and signed up for Accidental Death & Dismemberment insurance ($100,000 is going to you guys, Dad and Daniel. You're welcome). As only a few weeks shy of that age when the grey starts to show - 22, I probably should hesitate from using the word 'singletons,' a la Bridget Jones. I've got a good 10+ years before I achieve her level of insanity. I promise I won't have cats. I would like Colin Firth, though.

Bible Class afterwards went much better, sitting next to someone who graduated a year ahead of me who's also braving the single yet employed life in Abilene, the Mecca of Western Civilization. Afterwards, I ran into my sophomore year roommate's parents, had a good chat, then continued out the door, to the car, then back home.

I didn't die, so that was good. Tomorrow, I'll head back to the office, working alongside people in their 20's, 30's, 40's, 50's and probably 60's who are single. I think I picked the wrong profession. Or maybe I attended too many summer camps and disturbing youth retreats in my earlier years, making me think it's now or never to find happiness. They really shouldn't teach that to the impressionable youth of the world. They should tell us that we should take time to have fun, embark on adventures and whatnot. Like moving to Los Angeles. Or to New Zealand. Or better yet: Abilene.

I guess I'll have to reeducate myself.