Why I Am Still Single
When I was 29 going on 30, I broke up with the star of my life’s first great love story. I had moved from Montréal to Halifax for love and probably a little bit for sex. Back in Montréal, one of several sublets included an apartment I shared with two 34-year-old women. As I unpacked my two-and-a-half suitcases, I asked my new roommates what their love lives were like. Apparently, neither of them had dated seriously since their late twenties. I was like, how did you let this happen? Followed by the conviction, this will never happen to me. And yet it did. I can pin this down to approximately three reasons.
Do You Meditate?
“Do you meditate?” asked the Million-Dollar Chiropractor. It was July 2021. I was weeping on her table as she engaged in some esoteric dialogue with my body and soul. Apparently, my body had lost all the joy of being alive.
At her question, I cried harder.
Everybody always says that.
The Micro-Life
I used to think it was important to be able to move in an Uber. And if you have ever gone through whirlwind stints of moving every three-weeks-to-every-three-months for any amount of time, perhaps you too have belonged to the two-and-a-half-suitcases club.
MANIFEST
If I’m radically honest, when I first became an adult, I secretly harboured the dream that Oprah would somehow discover my raw and edgy sex-filled blog which she would adore and which would deliver me from my seventeen-and-a-half-part-time jobs that ranged from lifeguarding at a pool that kept springing a leak, to potty training gifted preschoolers to translating soothing sentences about emollient and foaming skin cleansers.
Meanwhile, I had not quite cultivated what the Sensitive New Age Peeps (SNAPs) would call a sense of abundance.