More on being single

I've been reflecting on being single in Newburyport, especially in light of the experiences of our now long-lost friend, Mahatma.

I know a lot of single women here, many more than I knew while I lived in Boston. They all drink and to varying degrees reveal flesh. (For the record, I wear turtle neck tops as much as possible and shower wearing a cotton shift, just in case someone is watching.)

I also know, or at least know of, numerous single men here, also many more than I encountered in Boston.

You would think all these people would join together and form enduring bonds of love. Instead, it seems they form short-term bonds of lust. And then complain about it a lot.

I don't get it. Is there too much desperation in the air? I'm fighting men off with a stick. OK, so it's a twig.

For example, my neighbor, who it turns out is only 82 years old, said to me today, "If only I was 10 years younger ..."

I did not point out that 10 years less would still be closer to my parents' age than mine. He meant it as a compliment, after all.

It's not easy being single. We singletonettes have no one to fix the odd mechanical/electrical failure around the house, to install and remove the air conditioner, no one to tell us why our car is making that strange noise and no one to send out to buy feminine products when we just don't feel like doing it ourselves.

Very frustrating.