I love being single because you don’t have to act all grown-up and lend shoulders to a girl who will use you as her napkin everytime she thinks it essential to weep. Also because the only phone bills you have to bear are yours, and of course, you can watch Ragini Mms 2 without making your hormones feel guilty of betrayal.
But then there are those solitary evenings and you happily decide to go for a stroll only for the sky to do the crying this time and for a PDA couple to totter two yards in front of your eyes and under a single umbrella so small that their DNAs seem to be all over each other. And you sigh and tell God, “If you could loan me a gf just for an evening,” and then you sigh again, realizing that God himself is single and alone this time. Or may be always.