​After a breakup and subsequent period of sadness during which I obsessively told myself I was going to die alone, I found the work of Bella DePaulo, which essentially saved my life and transformed my thinking about singlehood.  It transformed it so much that I’ve become a scholar/writer/activist/crusader for singlehood, writing articles and even a book about it. 
 
Yet, there’s been a downside about it.  I now hear microaggressions where I hadn’t previously (such as politicians referring to “American families” as opposed to “American people”).  On the way back from a solo trip from hiking the AT, as I walked toward my apartment, I heard a woman refer to her brother as a “loner/bachelor.”  That triggered me for a second before I realized she may not have meant it as a negative thing.  After all, I hadn’t heard the entire conversation, so I’m probably missing a great deal of context.
 
I’m reading a book entitled The Professor in the Cage: Why Men Fight and Why We Like to Watch, which is about a professor’s foray into cage fighting, done as a study in masculinity (and in my opinion, the primal urges that lead to toxic masculinity).  He mentioned that marriage pacifies men, and that the lion’s share of violence is done by unmarried men (I hate that word “unmarried”).  I grinded my teeth for a second, and then I thought, well, actually, I think I felt pacified when I was in relationships.  And toxic masculinity among men is real, and men are often competing for relationships/sex, so yeah, I guess it makes sense that would be the case.  Of course, without such perceptions of how manhood is connected to sex, we might see that violence drop, so we need to look at the root of that problem, which the author neglects.
 
The problems of singlism and matrimania still exist.  But the trick for me is learning to see it where it actually does occur and to not overread where it may not.

A short prose piece inspired by Peter McGraw's Solo podcast episode, "Waiting." A widower is infinitely more attractive than a never-married person, as our protagonist proves.

There was word of a widower in Pine Hills, the gated community for senior citizens.  Peter, a grey-haired man in his 70s, had lost Elizabeth, his wife of thirty years.  All the widows in the complex brought him casseroles and pastries until he coupled with Gretchen.  Upon doing so, he placed Elizabeth’s pictures in storage.
 
Peter had been a graphic designer.  His specialty was altering stock photos to give them different appearances.  Elizabeth, whom he had gotten from one of his suppliers, was his masterpiece. 

​Since I have the summers “off,” I travel to New York to visit my Mom and brother.  Last summer, that couldn’t happen due to the combination of the pandemic and me moving to DC for my new job.  I visited during the winter, but given the surge of the virus, I wasn’t about to go into a crowded space like New York City.  Besides, it was shut down anyway.  With things reopening this time, with things opening up, and I decided a New York City trip was just what I needed. 
 
I love trains.  I’d be a happy man if I could just use trains exclusively.  The fact that there’s a train station not too far from my mother’s house makes me ecstatic.  The hour-long train ride was a nice, meditative experience for me as I stared out the window at all of the different New Jersey towns.  All the golf courses, McMansions, more modest homes, and downtown areas had me imagining what life might be like there, and it made me grateful for the one I currently have.
 
Once I got into Hoboken, I had to walk around the waterfront that overlooks the Hudson River.  After lying in the nearby park, I spotted a CitiBikes station and decided I had to get my bike fix in.  For $15, you can get as many 30-minute rides as you want in the span of one day.  I rode on a path for a spell before grabbing a street hot dog and working it off by walking through downtown.
 
After about a half hour, I decided to head toward the reason for my trip: The Big Apple.  The PATH train provided some much-needed AC in this July humidity.  I got off at Christopher Street in the West Village and was greeted by a CitiBike, which, of course, I rode.  After a brief ride toward the Hudson River and back, I had a hankering for some Italian Ices.  I thought the nearby pizza place would have it.  They had the flavors on a board, but the man behind the counter said, “Sorry.  Maybe next year.”  Not enough people walking around?  Next, I tried an ice cream parlor.  The young woman seemed apologetic at the idea that an ice cream parlor wouldn’t have Italian Ices.  The next pizza place housed a man who said, “What’s an Italian Ice?”  I just didn’t have the energy to explain it.
 
Finally, it occurred to me to use the Google Maps to find Italian Ices, and at that point, I found Ralph’s Famous Italian Ices & Ice Cream on Avenue A, about a mile away, but as I would soon found out, well worth the walk.  That first taste of the Cherry Coke ice was like heaven in my mouth.  I found a nearby park bench, and enjoyed my ice while I watched passersby, another old favorite hobby of mine. 
 
Another mile down to the Pickle Guys, where I got my brother that quart of sour pickles I promised him.  From there, I found another CitiBike and rode around Chinatown before the highlight of the trip, dinner with fellow CoSPer Laura Zan at Nyonya, a Malaysian restaurant on Grand Street.  From our conversation, I learned that during my time as a teacher in Malaysia, my hosts had sheltered me from real Malaysian street food (they’d fed me the cuisine the school cooks had made).  Laura knew a lot about real Malaysian culture. Fortunately, I was able to sneak away on a couple of occasions for Mee Rebus, a popular Malaysian breakfast dish.  Laura also gave me a good tip for a hiking trail in Tuxedo, New York, right near the train station.  Two things I love all rolled into one; I may just do that this weekend.
 
After dinner, we got dessert from Ferrara Bakery right next door (I had to have my cannoli).  We took a nice walk through downtown, and there was a part of it Laura referred to as “the backwoods of New York.”  A very desolate area, and soon, I learned why: the correctional facility nearby. 

We parted ways at the City Hall station, and I walked away feeling exhilarated by meeting a new friend.  As Kislev said in Happy Singlehood, “singles are more connected socially than married people.”  Recently, that kind of connectivity has become a major core value in my life, and it’s always nice to meet people with those core beliefs. 

​ 
As more and more people are getting vaccinated and  the pandemic is beginning to subside, I’m slowly emerging from my cocoon to socialize.  Moving to a new city during the pandemic was a challenging experience, but as an introvert who loves spending time alone, I was able to adapt.  But once the school year ended, I suddenly had more time to fill (projects keep me busy, but it’s on my own schedule).  And staying in all the time just wasn’t cutting it anymore.
 
I was revitalized on Friday night by going to a Tennis Meetup at the Dwight Mosley Playground and Taft Field in Northeast DC.  And Saturday morning was lunch with fellow happy singleton and blogger Christina Diane Campbell of Onely fame.
 
I was in a bad car accident back in October, and as a result, driving has been a challenge.  I could have taken Metro to this spot, Plaka, in Falls Church, Virginia, but I decided to step up and drive, and while I do get testy with DC traffic, once I hit the Chain Street Bridge, it was a nice, picturesque ride, filled with verdant landscapes and, yes, churches.  “Exposure therapy.”
 
When I reached the spot, I pictured the area being a more walkable, a la Old Town in Alexandria, but it was still a cool spot.  I tend to be early to most things, especially when I’m exploring a new area.  I got there at about twenty to noon, and grabbed a table.  Christina was not far behind.  She got a nice-looking salad.  Sadly, I had some fillings done the day prior, so I couldn’t eat anything crunchy.  I did, however, indulge in one of the best gyros I’ve ever eaten.  Due to all the outdoor tables being occupied, we were “relegated” to a newly created patio in the middle of the lot with AstroTurf where we talked about our work, our cat children, toxic masculinity, the sheer awesomeness of Planet Word, and the possibility of a local CoSP meetup in the future (I’ll probably do something in the fall). 

​After we finished eating, we walked back toward the restaurant, and suddenly, the tables were all empty (interesting how that works, right?).  We talked about book launches (Donna Ward is having one on Monday), and Christina helped me gather some ideas on how to promote my book, How to be a Happy Bachelor.  It came out in 2020, but between moving and starting a new job, that fell down the priority list.  Fortunately, our conversation inspired me to create a Virtual Book Launch, happening August 14.
 
A long-haired dude at the next table commented on my Phish shirt, and he talked about his work with the Washington Scottish Pipe Band.  Normally, I’m not that open to random strangers just talking to me (I feign politeness nicely), but the conversation brought me back to “pre-pandemic” times when we could talk with each other.
 
Of course, after a bunch of socializing, I was happy to get back to my cocoon.  Movies, Chester, couch.

​I could barely sleep last night.  The excitement of going to Planet Word with my good friend Heather was too much to bear, particularly after my Saturday pandemic routine of jogging, biking, hiking, napping, playing with Chester, and take-out (which is actually a pretty fun routine).  But somehow I made it, and I made it to the museum.  Heather and I waited on a socially distanced line (and behind us was a woman named Sheila, who we found out later is a member of CoSP!  Small world!). 
 
After we got in, the first place we went to was this interesting word wall.  You could speak into a microphone, and you’d hear the stories of the origins of some of the words.  The wall opposite that had more origins.  Heather and I, both devoutly childfree people, spotted the words “infant,” “fabulous,” and “banal” and    “Infants are not fabulous; they’re banal.”  (No offense to our parent friends on here). 

​From there, we participated in a virtual interaction where we got to learn some words commonly used in other countries.  Apparently, kediler means “cats” in Turkish.  Heather and I both love our kediler!  We also got a cool picture of me being “mischievous” and Heather being “impish.”   And, of course, us holding cardboard cutouts of our favorite creatures: cats.

​Once in the room full of classic books, we separated for a bit.  I watched videos on the rhythm of poetry and was transported back to a course I took during my Master’s program at SUNY New Paltz with Dr. Robert Waugh where I learned all about poetic devices such as iambs, trochees, and dactyls (the latter of which are used in rap music).  Next up was a video on corpus analysis of text, which is why whenever I type the works “picks self up,” my phone automatically gives me the option of autoentering “from floor,” and then “wipes tear,” and finally, “from eye.”  Heather checked out the karaoke room starring Neil Diamond, which, as I type, I now regret not seeing.  But, hey, I can always go back. 
 
I made us a reservation at this lovely Mediterranean restaurant called Zaytinya, but we had more time than I thought we would before the reservation, so we walked around and talked.  At Heather’s encouragement, I continued to say, “Hellwoooo Chester” to every dog that passed (but not every baby; that would be banal).  Heather even said, “that’s a cute Chester,” about one dog, about which I commented on her use of metonymy.  She also informed me about “evil eyes,” which were on the restaurant’s website, and she texted me about them yesterday.  She had sent a picture of her cat/son Raven, so I thought she was referring to his eyes (Chester can also make some pretty intense eyes when he wants to).   Evil eyes; I’d love to be able to use it on a few people, but I digress.
 
We enjoyed some awesome cuisine.  Heather got the Falafael, while I sampled an omelette horitaki, and we split some Brunch Fries.  Mmmmmm… We talked words, people who will eat McChickens and hot dogs but won’t get the vaccine because they don’t know what’s in it, gas hoarders, people who need to get permission from their spouses to drink soda, old-world Jewish culture, and other fun topics.
 

​We parted ways at about 1, and when I got home, I sampled Smarties (not that tart candy, but a British version of M&Ms).  I dug ‘em, for sure.  Thanks, Heather!  And, as always, I enjoyed our banter.  Word to your Raven!

(This paper was written by Laender Manzano, a student in my IGED111: Foundational Writing in the Natural and Social Sciences course at the University of the District of Columbia, in the Spring 2021 semester.

Singlism. Eight simple letters. I can bet my last dollar many of you reading this have never heard of this term. I bet you now are asking yourself, “what is singlism?” For those of you who have heard of this term, I can bet you never gave it any thought. In recent times, the term singlism has been a topic of controversy. The one thing that is not up for debate is how undoubtedly singlism is a form of discrimination.

Before making any judgment, let us start off with what is Singlism. Singlism is a recently created word. The word is claimed to have been created by the well-renowned social psychologist Bella DePaulo Ph.D. DePaulo (2010) defines singlism as “the stigmatizing of adults who are single. It includes negative stereotyping of singles and discrimination against singles.” One would believe the creator of the word would be able to provide the most accurate definition, and yet, the term continues to be debated.  

One aspect that has led to the growth of the term is the evolution of society: specifically, relationships. Take a trip down history street and picture a man in the 1930s having dinner after a long day of work. Is he eating alone? Be honest. Let me help you; you just pictured a man arriving home after a long day at work and meeting his wife and kids at home. The reality is that this is what Americans have been taught. The norm for a person is to be married. Take a U-turn and return to the present time and picture a man after a long day at work eating dinner at home. Is he eating alone? Is he eating with a roommate? Is he eating while the dog watches on the side? Whether society would like to admit it or not, the norm and averages of relationships have changed.  According to Emily Guskin and Lisa Bonos (2019), “Just over half of Americans between the ages of 18 and 34 — 51 percent of them — said they do not have a steady romantic partner.” This brings us to the topic of singlism. The rise of Americans being single has led to an increase in encounters with singlism. Truth be told, the more singles exist in society, the more common singlism becomes.

Now more than ever do people come across singlism. It happens at our jobs, schools, courts, and even amongst our friends and family. For instance, singles are looked down on when they reach a certain age and are still single. Why is that you may wonder? Simply put, we have been programmed that to have a successful and happy life, people must find their second half as if we are born missing half of ourselves. Moreover, singles are commonly seen as sad, stubborn people. The assumption that people are single as a result of their behavior rather than being a choice is mindboggling. For generations, being single has been depicted as a punishment for one’s lack of social skills. In her book, Depaulo (2007) cancels this fallacious mindset and informs the reader, “the attributes are pathetic, and they can all be found among people of every type of living arrangement and marital status.” Singlism is a result of fallacious beliefs that some people in society seem to continue to hold onto. Remember, a person’s relationship status does not determine who that person is.

One would think that in an everlasting, evolving society, the laws, rules, and regulations would also adapt. Unfortunately, that is not the case. In the case of Americans, we continue to see singles being at a disadvantage compared to those who are married. For example, the Social Security Administration has a site dedicated to benefits specifically to spouses. Singles without considering anything else, are immediately disqualified from these benefits. Let us not overlook the fact that the government rewards you for being married. H&R Block (2019) informs the reader how “the most common credits and deductions are unavailable on separate returns.” Imagine a colored person paying less in taxes because of his skin color. Would that be discrimination? I once again ask how singlism is any different from racism. In both scenarios, a person has been deprived of benefits due to being categorized within a group of single people.       

​Singlism, now more than ever, has proven itself to be a form of discrimination. If you, like many minds in our society, think otherwise, I will kindly ask you to switch places with the counter. For instance, if you are white, would you like to be treated as a black person? If you are a Christian, would you like to be treated as a Muslim? If you are a person from a wealthy family, would you like to be treated like someone from a lower class? If you were married, would you like to be treated as a single person? If you answered no to any of the previous questions, then you too can agree that singlism is a form of discrimination. Although silent and unspoken, it continues to persist in our society. As with any other form of discrimination, individuals and their efforts are the crucial to making a change for the greater good; with that said, what will you do?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
References
DePaulo, B. (2010, September 20). Singlism: What it is and is not, and why it should be in the dictionary. Retrieved February 16, 2021, from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog /living-single/201009/singlism-what-it-is-and-is-not-and-why-it-should-be-in-the-diction ary
DePaulo, B. (2007). Singled out: How singles are stereotyped, stigmatized, and ignored, and still live happily ever after. In Singled out: How singles are stereotyped, stigmatized, and ignored, and still live happily ever after (p. 95). New York, NY: St Martin's Griffin.
Guskin, E., &; Bonos, L. (2019, March 22). It's not just you: New data shows more than half of young people in America don't have a romantic partner. Retrieved February 16, 2021, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/2019/03/21/its-not-just-you-new-data-shows-more-than-half-young-people-america-dont-have-romantic-partner/.
Married filing jointly vs. married filing separately. (2019, December 03). Retrieved February 16, 2021, from https://www.hrblock.com/tax-center/filing/personal-tax-planning/married-filing-jointly-vs-separately/.
 

​On the day I adopted my cat/son Chester, I went to the leasing office to register him so I could have the joyful experience of placing a pet deposit of $150 and adding $30 per month to my rent.  In my current DC locale, there was no deposit, but I still pay an extra $50 per month on top of my rent. 
 
My friend Heather and I conversed as we waited for a private dolphin experience at Baltimore’s National Aquarium, and I brought up my rent, and we agreed “pet rent” is an industry-wide scam perpetuated by the apartment leasing industry.  It brought back memories of postings I’ve read in various Childfree groups.  After all, human babies make way more mess than pets do (as do some toddlers, teenagers, and adults as well). 
 
Some justification behind this policy is that the paws of pets can cause more “wear and tear” on carpet than humans.  And babies don’t make puke?  Toddlers don’t write on walls?  Hell, drunk teenagers (and adults) don’t punch holes in walls? 
 
Kids can cause as much (if more) damage than humans.  If the apartment leasing industry is really hell-bent on making money, they could  charge a “kid deposit,” which should be equal to the “pet deposit” if not more so.  But since this would be a violation of federal law (and I do empathize with single parents), I don’t endorse that route. 
 
But if you do want to ensure that pet owners are going to be responsible, you could have the pet owners sign an agreement which requires them to pay for any damages caused by the pet.  I consider myself a responsible cat Dad, so I’d sign it.  But you’d have to do it for parents of human children as well.  Most are responsible, but some aren’t.  The same goes with pet owners. 
 
Leasing companies, if you’re all about equality for “families,” extend it to pet families too. 

 ​One thing I’ve learned from teaching and doing faculty meetings via video chat is this: Zoom fatigue is real.  And over the winter months, my social interaction has consisted of phone calls and Zoom chats.  Not that I don’t value them, but I’ve missed the days when I could go to a concert, restaurant, or museum with friends without catching a deadly disease.
 
I’m blessed to have a job that gives me a week off in March, and although there will be some work involved, I can do at my own pace, and I can go out of town if I’d like.  I decided I needed to spend one night out of my apartment and city.  As much as I love both things, a change of scenery was necessary.  So I hopped an Amtrak from Union Station to Baltimore.  I got to the station early and walked around the neighborhood.  I ambled toward the Capitol Building, and I got teary-eyed with longing when I saw that fence blocking the path toward it.  I remember this part of the city being packed with tourists going to admire these national landmarks; I remember BEING one of those tourists.  I then wrote an idea in my notepad for a personal essay on such a longing that I could submit to The Washington Post or The Atlantic.
 
I wore my face shield on top of the mask for the train ride because, well, security.  It felt nice being able to stare out the window and admire the scenery (even if it consisted mostly of family homes in suburban neighborhoods) because, well, it reminded me there’s a world outside of my neighborhood and these video screens.  I also brought a good book called The Age of The Bachelor, recommended by Joan DelFattore, which gives an interesting history of bachelor subculture in the United States. 
 
When I arrived at the hotel, I took a solo stroll at the Inner Harbor and walked down Light Street looking for outdoor dining, of which there was very little.  I also craved Thai food, so I ordered spring rolls and Pad Thai from a place called Be More Thai and took it to the Harbor.  Sadly, it had gotten dark, and if I can’t see/photograph what I’m eating, I can’t enjoy it.  So I stopped off at Moo Moo Cow’s Ice Cream and picked up a single scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream with hot fudge for dessert.  I then went back to my room and gorged on my dinner and dessert over a new Netflix movie called Moxie, about a teenage feminist revolution (my kinda movie if you don’t count the two romantic subplots, which I can overlook in favor of the feminist empowerment message).
 
The next morning, I met Heather at the National Aquarium at 8:45, fifteen minutes prior to our scheduled meeting time (a fellow stickler for punctuality!).  She pointed ​out a Chester Street on a nearby map, which, of course, we’d have to get pictures of later.

​We made our way in and saw all kinds of cool sea life, to which I may have kept saying “Hellwoooo, Chester,” as it is my common saying to anything cute (cats, dogs, birds, fish, even babies).  The highlight was the private dolphin encounter Heather booked for us, where I learned that male dolphins live in “bachelor pods,” which I love.  I don’t love the fact that they get the females pregnant and then leave (our guide, Grey, referred to them as “deadbeat Dads”). Another highlight was when Heather typed “Animals are awesome, humans are waste” into a computer they’d set up for a “phrase wall.”  There are times I can get on board with that.

​After the museum, we found Chester Street, where we got this cool picture.  From there, we stopped for lunch at Kooper’s Tavern, the feature of which was these plastic bubbles that they had set up for outdoor dining (as seen at the top of this post).  “Bubbles!” Heather yelled as we passed it on the way to Chester Street.  We agreed that life in a bubble would be great: people not getting too close to us, but still able to enjoy life.

​Since it’s my Spring Break, I continued my break from my usual low-carb, high-protein diet and indulged in a sausage-adorned seafood gumbo as an appetizer and devoured a crab cake with coleslaw and fries (crab cakes are a requirement when touring Baltimore IMHO).  Our conversational topics included 80s and 90s musical acts, politics, and some deeper stuff.

​After lunch, we walked back to Heather’s car, and on the way, I got a Fells Point refrigerator magnet to add to my collection.  Anytime I travel to a new city, a refrigerator magnet gets added. 
 
After we parted ways, I began a 1.6 mile walk to the train station.  I had time to spare, so I looked up “Bakeries near me.”  I have a proclivity toward pastries, as anybody who’s seen my cupboard and/or freezer will tell you, and I like “collecting places.”  So I found The Bun Shop not too far away, where I tried a chocolate rotiboy bun with some Nutella spread inside.  It was mmmm, mmmm, good.   And as Heather informed me later, her Fitbit said we walked something like seven miles today, so I think I come out ahead (not that I’m justifying, of course).

​I always get ideas for writing projects when I travel, and Heather helped inspire one.  A blog post or op-ed piece about pet rent.  Seriously, what’s the deal?  Babies cause way more damage than Chester ever could.  Why do I have to pay $50 a month for Chester when the parent of a human child gets off scot-free?  Stay tuned…
 
This outing was much needed.  While this introvert loves hanging solo in his apartment, it was nice to explore a city with a friend I can truly connect with.  With all the Zoom fatigue I was going through, this was much needed.  Thanks for everything, Heather.  We’ll do it again!

​I love the fact that Valentine’s Day and Singles Empowerment Day fell on a three-day weekend this year.  I love the fact that I have President’s Day off at my new school.  Thanks to being single, I can move wherever without having to worry about a spouse/partner and kids, unlike some colleagues I have who are stuck and are just trying to survive.

My stomach barely survived my overindulgence last night, as I woke up at 6:30 this morning with some pains.  Fortunately, Tums and Gas-X helped.  My plan was to get that discount candy first thing in the morning before everyone else made their way in.  I was told the manager at the Giant Food hadn’t come in to guide employees on the discount, so I took a nice walk to the Target at Cleveland Park and made my purchase, which will probably stay in my closet for a few months.  I was the only customer in there at 7:15 this morning.  Now that’s dedication!

​After I made my way back, I used the weight room to work my biceps and back.  This was followed by some reading and watching the 60 Minutes episode I DVRed last night.  The topics: Solarwinds, Bill Gates’s plan to combat climate change, and a gymnast’s strategy to keep training through COVID.  The last one was my favorite.  Afterwards, I fell asleep with Chester on my stomach.
 
When I woke up at about 11, I had an appetite, so I ate the last bagel I had transported from New York (insert product placement for Suffern, NY’s Bagel Train, a must-visit when I go there).  It was perfect timing, because I finished up my cream cheese too.  After this, I did some binging of that show Community, about community college students.  The characters are terrible people, but their antics are amusing.
 

After a few episodes, another nap was in order (also with Chester on my stomach).  I then spent some time working on an article for Syllabus, a free online academic journal that showcases innovative syllabi.  I’m developing one for a course on How to be Single and Happy, but this one’s more developed than the one I taught last year.  I’m also including a unit on Global Singlehood, where students read about singlehood in European and Asian countries and compile a research project on singlehood in a country of their choice.  I can’t wait to teach that someday! 
 
I was supposed to attend a virtual workshop on Antiracist Practices in Grading, but there were some power outages in College Station, Texas, the host site, it was postponed indefinitely.  I was slightly disappointed, but that freed up more time to write, read, and play my guitar.  I also remembered I needed to reread Chapter 6 of Bella’s Singled Out to formulate some discussion in my class Wednesday (they’re reading the book and will have the opportunity to meet with Bella).
 
For dinner, it was some leftover Super Bowl chili and I finished up some taco shells and taco meat.  For dessert, it was some Valentine’s Day candy.  I had to have some of the discount candy on Discount Candy Day.  Over dinner/dessert, I watched The Super, an early 1990s comedy starting Joe Pesci as a slumlord sentenced to live in his own Harlem tenement.  When I got done, I saw Bella posted an article about Dr. Ruth and her stupid Tweet about hunting for the one for next Valentine’s Day.  Could Ruth be any more unenlightened?  I was delighted to see a number of people tear Ruth down, and of course, I Tweeted my comments as well.  It’s Singles Empowerment Day; how can I not?  I also did the same thing to my cleaning service, who opened with the line “You had a great weekend, you set the table for Two…” and closed with “…let your partner know you appreciate them.”  We have to speak up!

​As I write this, I’m grateful to have had a fun weekend, but I realized I made some grave omissions: while I spent the weekend indoors, I also had some texting contact with Misti, Heather, and Emily, fellow singletons and awesome friends.  And Elyakim invited me to be an admin on his Happy Singlehood Group, and we’re meeting tomorrow with Kris Marsh to discuss a possible collaboration for a TV show.  My background in Mass Media can hopefully help with this.
 
Back to the real world tomorrow.  Fellow singletons (and even you coupled folks), I hope your weekend rocked as hard as mine did.  Now, time to wind down for the night.
 
 

​To say that Valentine’s Day would be different during COVID is a lot like saying water is wet.  For the last couple of years I’ve blogged about my V-Day experience, I’ve spent a typical day at work followed by that nice special at Hooter’s where you go in, shred a picture of your ex in front of them, and get a dozen free boneless wings. 
 
Two changes: 1) the pandemic; 2) I’ve moved from the traditional suburb of Newport News, Virginia to the urban landscape of Washington, DC.  The nearest Hooter’s is thirty minutes away, in Fairfax, Virginia, and even in “normal” circumstances, I’m just not inclined to make that trip just for wings (they’re not even the best I’ve had, and I don’t exactly support their objectification of the waitresses).

Anyway, as an introvert, I’m quite adept at creating fun of the things within the four walls of my 1-bedroom apartment.  But I did venture out this morning – all the way to the weight room in my building’s basement.  Sundays are typically an upper body day.
 
After this, I did some reading (this book, Missoula: Rape and the Justice System in a College Town, by Into the Wild author Jon Krakauer, exposes some horrifying information about rape on college campus) and binge-watched Rick, Corey, Chum Li, and the Old Man negotiate for historical artifacts on Pawn Stars on Netflix.  After an episode, I remembered that I didn’t have the grated parmesan cheese I needed to make that veal parmigiana I’ve been chomping at the bit to make this past week, so I grabbed my shopping cart and headed down to Giant Food (there were a few other items I needed to get too).
 
After a nap (accompanied by Chester on my stomach), there was some more fun with Pawn Stars, followed by a jam session with my guitars (the acoustic case is another one of Chester's favorite spots).  I had played on and off since I was in high school, but the pandemic motivated me to spend some quality time playing every night, and lately, I’ve been teaching myself some blues.  Every time I try to follow the tablature in the book, I end up making up my own licks.  I’m trying to figure out where I want to go with this.  Obviously, I’m not going to be a world-famous blues guitarist, but I’d like to find some people to play out with after the pandemic.  But that’s for another post.

, ​Anyhow, I had been on pins and needles waiting for my article on “How to Write Single Characters” to drop on the Writer’s Digest website.  I had taken a virtual workshop on Sensitivity Reading at Norfolk, Virginia’s Muse Writers Center last May.  Sensitivity reading is a new trend in writing, where somebody reads a work to make sure marginalized groups are represented accurately, and my work on the portrayal of singlehood in popular culture.  I got the idea to write an article about the portrayal of single characters in fiction.  I sent it out last May, and two weeks ago, I got an email from Writer’s Digest asking if I’d allow them to publish.  I was told it would come out today, and I’d been anticipating its release all day, right up until about 3 p.m. when it dropped.
 
I celebrated with my inaugural veal parm dish.  I overcooked it in the pan, but it still came out well.  I also got to celebrate via a Zoom dinner with my Mom and brother, Jeremy, who’s going to teach me how to make tomato sauce from scratch.  A pic of the finished product below, along with my appetizer of salami, prosciutto, mozzarella, and a nice bialy (New York was the theme here).  Jeremy and I got Mom a ticket to see a virtual Air Supply, so she had to log off after an hour so she could charge her iPad for the concert.  From there, I popped in a DVD I bought from Amazon (I like to collect them), Little Man Tate, a 1991 gem about a child genius, accompanied by a brownie sundae, some V-Day chocolate, and too many chocolate almonds.  The movie  was even better than I remembered it.    

​As I type this post, I’m grateful that this weekend, V-Day fell on a Sunday and I have off tomorrow for President’s Day, which this year, falls on the same day as Singles Empowerment Day (the acronym for Singles Awareness Day sucks, so I renamed it), so I can relish in my experiences outside of strictly work.  Till tomorrow, folks!