Single in the city

Oh aren't we tired of em unctuous single-in-the-city ramblings that hound us idhar and udhar. As if singledom were perched high in crowned skies and the in-love mere withering, lowly beings.

Indeed self-loving is joyous and the no strings attached, more so. The occasional one-nighter adds to its allure. But really with every conversation-turned-marriage, don't we sometimes wish there were somebody out there. Who'd wobble those knees and bubble that heart over? Or perhaps just a little less fairy-tale like, sit up and listen in.
Hopeless, maybe. But those empty walls won't do all that daytime drudgery no good. So, whilst there's dance bars and the movies how many of us splendidly single wouldn't want the occasional hand to hold. Or a little bit of under-the-table footsie when nobody's looking?

Of course love is losing more than a bit of its charm. And we're all foolishly looking for Mr. Perfecto in this cynical little world of break-ups, divorces and the lovelorn. But time, the devil that it is, is a precious little being. And whilst its running out, ah aren't we hoping it runs into a looping, happy love song?

Oh yes forever doesn't stay, and love goes away. The patience runs out, and the joy wears thin. And all we're left with is the squabbles and the stems. Of once blooming roses. We are better of alone, so we have learnt. Or, so they tell us.

We go on then, meandering through bylanes of lonely, flashing that smile, feeling oh-so-good about how everythings comes in one-s. Mighty pleased there ain't no sheet to share and television channels to fight over, each night, we slip into slumber.

But beneath the ooh's and aah's of the "I am single" and oh-so-many layers of denial, aren't we all really hoping maybe, just maybe, today we'd wake up to some love?