Ten.

Carrie Bradshaw once noted that every New Yorker is constantly on the lookout for at least one of three things: an apartment, a job and a relationship.
Apartment? Check (and that probably deserves its own blog).
Job? Big ole check (and THAT probably deserves its own blog).
Relationship? Hahahaha. But it's also been said that two out of three ain't bad.

I've written countless letters to my future guy, and think about him often. And if I could beg just one question of the universe, my decision would be easy. Have I at least met him? Some days, I'm so lonely that I don't think I can go even one more day on my own. But somehow, I always do. And then on nights like tonight, I think about all the perks of flying solo.

I worked hard all day long. Now that I'm home (and it's not even 8), I'm wearing boxers so ugly I don't even know why I own them. (Yes I do. Costume party.) Makeup's gone and hair looks far from good. There's a pile of clothes on my floor that I probably won't hang up anytime soon because I don't have anyone to try to convince I have my shit together. My dinner? Probably going to be bachorette-orific and something along the lines of cereal. I'm on no one's agenda and have nothing to talk about and easy access to a remote that will not be fought over.

Would I give this all up in a heartbeat for the right guy? Absolutely. Will I panic if he doesn't show up on my doorstep tomorrow? Here's hoping...

I realize that all the points listed above are things singles often say to try and convince themselves it's not so bad. But somewhere along the way of realizing them, I actually started to believe in them. I'm either becoming independent, or a cynic.

I've been asked what seems like a million times recently why I don't have a boyfriend. Beats me, I'm awesome. But it all seriousness, there's something about that question that grinds on my last nerve. It's like telling someone who's overweight that they have SUCH a pretty face. (And trust me, I've gotten that line a fair share, too.) Being single is a transient state, and furthermore, one I do NOT have control over. Implying that I'm less than complete or somehow at fault because I cannot control something entirely out of my hands isn't nice. I don't KNOW why I'm single. If I did, frankly, I'd probably change it. Instead, I'll just make the best out of my current situation. (See third paragraph.)

I believe I have a lot of control in this life. I control who I'm friends with and what kind of incredible mischief we get into. I control my job and my success at it. I control my finances, what my cat thinks of me, what I eat, what shoes I wear, what color I paint my walls, what shows I see, what I buy, what scent I wear, what insurance plan I have, what social networking sites I belong to, and a billion other things.

Love and public transportation? Two things absolutely not on that list. It's somehow both calming and comforting to have reached such a revelation. Be the best Alison possible: the rest will somehow fall in line.