I turned the big 30 in March and it's safe to say I'm in a period of regression. Regressing in a sense that I view marriage as "eh" and infants bore me after 10 minutes. By societal standards, I should be drowning my sorrows in chocolate ice cream over the fear of being a childless cat lady. Sadly I don't have a cat, yet that is. The strange thing is I feel the exact opposite, I'm obsessed with my singledom and there's a slight fear of letting go.

I haven't always been like this. I've yearned for the stability of a relationship just to be disappointed time and time again. If I wasn't busy being disappointed, I was aggravated from trying to dodge an overly obsessed suitor. It was either feast or famine with no in between in regards to attention. Through disappointment, I've learned to enjoy my own company but I'm enjoying it a little too much. Late night yoga class and bedroom twerk sessions are what my life has succumbed to and I'm strangely OK with that. The idea of planning a wedding makes me nauseous.The thought of picking bridesmaids gives me even more anxiety (too many close friends).

Don't get me wrong, I know there are deeper nonsuperficial perks to love, but with that comes work. Work that I rather put elsewhere (yoga and writing). A woman free of distractions will get way further in life.

The last time I fell for someone was far from a blissful experience. It was filled with stress anxiety and confusion. Singledom has provided me with a sense of peace, I don't have to stress over the infidelities of someone else. Aside from zero stress, I get to play the field and date for fun solely.

My weekends have been filled with days parties, dinners, physical activities, and meeting the right people. Not sure if compromises (eww), sacrifices (nope), and invested time (doubt it) can take the place of single freedom. Maybe I will meet Mr. Right someday; call it fear of commitment, selfishness or whatever it is is my Mr. Right Now.

Selfish

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