There’s literally no good answer to this question.

The mood was *literally* set. I sat up against the booth side of the table as a waiter came over to light the candles around us. The ambiance: sophisticated. More so than my date with Little Caesars the night before. My Hinge date extended his hand with the wine menu instructing me to “pick a bottle.”

This is what love feels like, I thought.

Uh, good question, my dude. I panicked as my brain ran through some answers:

My eye started twitching in a way that only happens in the moments leading up to a dentist appointment, so I excused myself to the bathroom in a near panic. Holy fuck, I’m single, I thought. Like, really single. Like, I can’t tell this dude why I’m really single because I don’t even know why….I splashed some cold water on my face to calm down.

I know he didn’t mean it to be some intense, heavy question. Plus, most people use their answer to humblebrag about traveling all over the country or being so engulfed with work because they’re about to make partner at their fancy law firm. But there are other ways to elicit such flexes without asking such an odd question to which no one ever really knows the answer.

“It insinuates that there’s something wrong with being single.”

 

This question also creates a narrative about riding solo that I personally do not subscribe to. It insinuates that there’s something wrong with being by yourself—as if not wanting to be in a relationship is a bad thing. But really, I’d rather sleep alone, happy in my bed, than have to deal with someone else’s snores that keep me awake all night. And hey, it’s pretty fun doing whatever I want, whenever I want…

So, when I returned to the table—looking and feeling much less flushed than when I’d left—I smiled, looked my date right in the eye, and said: “Because I’ve wanted to be.” Although he’d forgotten what he’d asked me in the first place (I could tell since he shook his head the same way I do when I can’t hear someone), it was the truth.