coming to terms with singledom, is risky. risky because that's when boys enter the equation. they don't arrive when i would tear my hair out just to have someone hold me at night. they arrive when i have made plans alone, and when i don't want anyone else in my room, or freshly washed sheets.

but this is usually a resolve that arrives at the conclusion of someone. give me a couple of months and i might be humming, nay, chanting, a different tune.

which begs the question: is just having a man, any man, or unfortunately, boy, really the point?

the exact words came out of a friend's mouth the other day. "but at least you're having sex". really? really?! is that what it has come to? or cum to?...

sorry. couldn't help myself.

dating people we kind of like, but wouldn't rush home to meet mum, just for company?

but. seriously. the "atleast i'm having sex" tag feels like some kind of pseudo-liberated-i-just-watched-greer-on-youtube-while-txting-for-booty-at-11pm line. i for one know that when you watch a romantic comedy, and feel jealous of the kiss scene because they have known each other for, like, atleast, like, two weeks, then there are some serious questions to be asking.

for me, they start with, how liberated are we, as females, really, if we aren't happier?

or maybe that's just me.