Speccancy

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The word “single” is an interesting one. I’ve never thought about it a whole lot. I’ve never really wanted to, I guess. But today, I started thinking about the word. Single: only one in number; one only; unique. Then we have dollar bills, hits in baseball and a size of bed that is really not big enough for two. I guess a single is better than a cent or a strike-out or a twin, but it still seems to fall flat. We don’t usually use it in a positive way. We want a queen bed, or a king, or a California king… are the kings really that much bigger in California? Nothing seems to make much sense anymore. Especially trying to justify being alone at 23 in a world where the population is some seven billion. Single isn’t simple.

Medically, the prefix sin means “hollow, cavity, or to curve.” Otherwise, the prefix sin translates to “without”.  I do admit, I have an overwhelming urge to track the guy down who chose the word for single and give him a hearty smack across the face. “Without” suggests that something is missing. However, I am whole. All the pieces are here. I can’t think of anything that needs two of something to be considered a whole (unless it’s a half…)  but I’m all here. One whole entire person… I’ve almost got enough for two. Listen and you’ll hear my heart beating. Cut me, I’ll bleed. I’ve seen the x-rays. There is nothing hollow about me.

I’m not without anything. Im just ante-relationship is all. I just haven’t found anyone to make me care to be any other way. I’ll always be single though. It will always just be me at the end of the day. One person. Maybe that’s why so many people are relationship addicts. The guy who got to decide the word for “not being in a relationship” tricked the world into thinking we are only part of a person when we are alone. A hollow, empty cavity of a person. Seriously, that guy better be glad he’s long dead. That is so many of the problems I see around me. People think they are better off settling for a mediocre, luke-warm definition of love than being alone. I read too much Shakespeare and Jane Austen and Homer to be luke-warm about anything. I bleed passion that can’t be found in 10 Things I Hate About You. Love sure isn’t what it used to be.

So I am not with anyone. I am just with me, free to roam the concrete pastures of the city in search of whatever whim prevails for whatever day of the week it may be. I won’t pretend I don’t get lonely, I certainly do. The thing about it is that I am in charge of my lonliness. I could be with somebody- we all have the option of somebody. Somebody is not good enough though. Especially in a generation where people can tell you everything about Mike the Situation but nothing about Michaelangelo. We’ve got to be picky. We have to choose and throw people away if necessary. Forgiveness is all fine and dandy, but we can never expel  the experiences that we learn from being betrayed. Forgive someone who wrongs you for your own sake, let the anger go, but never let the feeling go that accompanied it. You only get the excuse of being naive the first time, after that… well I can think of a few different adjectives.

The prefix spec is “to look”. The suffix ance is “in the process of”. So Im not single- I’m just Speccance. That “single” word guy can roll around in his grave, for all I care.

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