Couple Math

There’s a piece by NeonBlond that opens with a brisk inventory of what couples actually deal with: the hair-nestling, the endearments, the exhausting negotiation of whether to have anal. Yes. No. Honey, it hurts. Honey, I’ll be careful. And then she never comes and he always comes too fast. The pill you have to get prescribed, buy, and then forget to take anyway. The morning-after pill that wrecks you for a day. The conclusion, delivered with cheerful bluntness: Risk? None. You’re single, sweetheart.

There’s something clarifying about reading a list like this when you’re on your own. You stop romanticizing coupledom and start noticing all the logistics you’re not managing. The synchronized forgetting of contraception. The negotiated orgasms neither person actually wanted to negotiate. The argument that started over dinner and somehow arrived at the bedroom and now involves everyone’s feelings about anal.

Being single has a specific freedom that’s easy to forget when you’re in the mood to be lonely. Sometimes you’re just not dealing with someone else’s shit, and that’s its own quiet luxury.