It happened again.

A few weeks ago, in fact. I met someone at a party and we got to chatting. I was just doing my thing, being little old me and in the middle of it all. He stopped, stared and blurted, disbelievingly: “Gosh. Mira. Why are you single?” Pardon me for taking offense but really. Can we take a minute and please just break this down?

People look at me like I'm some kind of strange bird when I say I'm single. (picture | Luc Viatour)

It’s not that I mind being asked, in a matter of fact sort of way, why I am single. Rather, it’s all the implications that are wrapped up in the inflections, the emphasis on the why and you, like I must look at myself in my single mirror each morning and cry out: Why?! Me?! I mean, really?

Tell me, dear reader: Do you think something’s wrong with me because I’m single? Do you picture me at home skinning puppies or practicing witchcraft while I tape up my third breast before I head out for drinks with the friend I paid to hang out with me? Do you think I must’ve been dropped as a child or that because I’m alone and I’m comfortable enough to talk about it. That I must be must be angry, agro and man-hating? Is this the reality?

Because I’m not the other half of some other whole, am I, in society’s eyes, stigmatized, marred, mired in pathetic longing?

Allow me to take a moment and be direct and honest (because I never do that). In case you’re wondering… These are the reasons why I am single:

1. I choose to be.

And that choice, like so many I have made over the past few years, reflects where I am in my life and what it is I’m focused on. In this case, that would be me. Relationships take a lot of energy. They require a lot of personal strength, community support, unwavering stability and then, so much more. To be in a real, intimate and committed relationship is a beautiful thing, but it’s work, it’s effort and it isn’t easy. About a year and a half ago, I realized that I needed to find some of my own personal strength, develop more community support and, yes, get myself stable-in almost every sense of that word. And so I have focused on that. I have chosen to become the best version of myself that I can be, because I can live and love more comfortably that way. I’m proud of myself. I’m proud of that choice.

[Let me repeat so that we’re clear: I’m not single because I have a defect. I am single because I want to be. For any of you reading right now thinking Yeah, right, let me humbly suggest that your worldview might be what we ladies call man-centric or misogynistic. K? Thnx.]

If I met a man like this, maybe.. (photo | pietroizzo)

2. Up until now, I have not met someone that I wanted to partner with.

Remember, I do have standards and I’m not relinquishing them just because I want to fall in love. I fall in love with life and the universe a little bit more almost every day. Falling in love with a man is a whole other thing. At the risk of scaring off all of you lovely ambivalent men, I’ll just say it: I’m a partnering kind of gal. I’m a relationship woman. Prior to now, I’ve almost always been a serial monogamist. It’s not that I wasn’t able to be alone, but I tend toward exclusivity. My heart works that way. And my life works that way. It isn’t easy to get me to let a lover in, but bless him because once he’s in, well, he’s in. And we’re off. The men that I have come into contact with, for whatever reason, only further propelled me into singledom. They didn’t anger me or make me hate their species, but they didn’t inspire me to go getting vulnerable and wide open and willing. No way. Some of them could become great sexual partners or even fabulous friends. But they just weren’t, for whatever reason, the right fit. And that’s just timing. And the mystery of life.

3. I have been scared of real intimacy.

And I think, to be fair, I have to just go ahead and put that out there. It’s scary, that word. Intimacy. It’s big and looming and exposing. Do I want to admit to you my insides and my imperfections, when I’ve only barely admitted them to myself? Do I want to let you in on my deepest fears, when I haven’t even broken them down for myself? I’m a really strong person and I tend to think I can lock down and load up and go it alone when I get freaked out. I had to stop doing that, get real and be honest with myself. About myself. Otherwise, I just couldn’t seem to get, well, intimate. Even now, honestly speaking, I’m still afraid. Intimacy levels me. I don’t want to be alone. I want to be loved, romantically. I want to be close. But I’m comfortable enough, now, to say this and mean it: I trust that kind of leaping and I think I can handle it. But I didn’t used to. I had to let myself stare the fear in the eye. And I had to do it alone. For whatever reason.

PROOF Mira has friends.

4. I might have been single, but I haven’t been alone.

Besides, I haven’t really been all that alone, anyway. There is an abundance of love in my life, and I am surrounded by a vast network of family and friends with whom I share both healthy and supportive relationships. In my opinion, to receive love, we must give and have love, first. So, I have it. Check to that one. And yes, I might also check the single box on the survey that you send me, or I might be eating alone at the bar because I’m hungry and there’s no one to cook for me at home. But I’m not empty, I’m not pining and I’m not sorry. Sure, I’m single. But I’m not alone.

So, the next time you meet me in person and you get all shocked because I actually am a real, live stimulating person, well, at least just say it straight: “Mira! Why do you skin puppies in your spare time?!!” I mean, shit, let’s keep it interesting. N’est ce pas?