I am single, a senior, and 21 years young. After my most recent relationship ended, I was ready to rebound and start the school year off with a bang. As much as I would have loved to hit up Retrievers for every Thursday night, I am getting to the point where I start taking relationships seriously. It would be great if I could meet Prince Charming at the Tavern, but would anyone really want to say they met their boyfriend at the Tav? Tinder is a completely different story.        

I have been single since the weekend of July 4th. Naturally, I celebrated my independence in more ways than one. As we are now approaching the winter holidays, all my social media accounts will be flooding with pictures of cute couples celebrating the holidays together. While I will be jealous of my fellow classmates and sisters, I will contently endure the holidays single.      

One day, I was complaining to my mom about how no guys liked me, I spent all my nights at home, and how my love life was slowly sinking into extinction. Then my wise mother said, “Just be single for a year, Trish.” Mom, are you crazy? Are you asking me to become an old cat lady in the future? My college years will be the prime time to trap some innocent boy's heart causing him to be stuck with me for all of eternity in holy matrimony. I cannot afford a year off; I will be 22 years old in April. High school students will be calling me old. 

Then my mother clarified, “No, Trish. Just don’t have a boyfriend for a year. Still be social, please.” Which, when translated to modern day English becomes “Do not become an old cat lady, I hate cats.”      

So, I have been single for five months now, and I really have no complaints. I have met some very nice gentlemen, come across the everyday butthole, and become acquainted with some guys who have quirks. Sure, it would be nice to say I have a boyfriend, but had I not promised myself to be single for a year; I would have turned into the Georgia Southern version of Taylor Swift. I would have been rushing into these relationships with the highest hopes of everything working out, and when they didn’t, I would be crushed and probably find someone new to rebound off of. I would have been caught in the vicious cycle that Taylor Swift is constantly in. She even has cats, so we all know how her life will end up.  

Call me crazy, call me smart, or call me Trisha. It does not matter to me, but if you try to date me, do not be offended when I turn you down. Everyone needs a little rejection in their life.