How one single woman gets her actual needs met.
I’ll tell you something, “just get a vibrator” is surface level advice. Amateur, even. The things that I truly need as a single woman cannot be provided to me via a USB rechargeable piece of nontoxic rubber. Thusly, I’ve had to get resourceful. I’ve had to route myself to comfort without a map or someone to put their finger in the middle of the ribbon, and I’m proud of what I’ve achieved.
Single women are the Swiss Army knives of the human species and no one knows it. Unless you’re one of us, you’ve no idea what it’s like to need a hand and not have it—ever. Thusly, below are the entirely inhuman resources that are currently making my life more enjoyable, convenient, and complete. Pulse and social security number not required.
I’m not ashamed to say that I’m finished lifting heavy things in this lifetime. After six years hauling items an uncomfortable percentage of my own body weight up four flights of stairs, bet your ass I’m in love with my elevator. A recent move has shown me how good and kind to my atrophied muscles life can be. He lifts the heavy loads, and he makes sure I never have to walk up the stairs when I’m tired. He smells nice, his mirror is flattering, this is love.
Baaaaabe, my remote control died, I need a new one! Baaaabe, the cat has mats, I need a comb for her! Baaaaabe, I don’t wanna go to the store for toilet paper and disinfecting wipes and sheet masks and gluten free flour! You tell me one man on this good green earth that would bring me shit as quickly and with as little lip as amazon.com and I’ll marry him in the morning.
I need snuggles, I’m not ashamed of that. Sexual gratifications are but one component of physical touch. There are countless others, and many of them can be addressed with something that meows and burrows her face in my shoulder. She also bathes herself with regularity, requires minimal amounts of my money, and handles her bathroom business like a lady. Squeeze a cat sometime, it’s good for you.
You don’t know love until someone else washes the Cuisinart for you after you make fresh pesto.
Eventually I hope to be partnered with a green-thumbed man, one who enjoys tending to our garden and delivering overflowing baskets of tomatoes to elderly neighbors because the plants “just went crazy this year!” But until then, I need my produce delivered on a biweekly basis. I’ve recently started using Misfits Market, due to the culinary curiosity involved in not knowing what’s in each box and the fact that the brand is apparently reducing food waste. May a partner one day benefit from what I’ve learned to do with Swiss chard.
I haven’t driven a car in six years, but even before that I found romance in the passenger seat. I like when someone else drives. Metaphor that out all you want but really I’ve always retained a level of discomfort in wielding a piece of machinery capable of taking a life. I want a partner who does the driving, and it just so happens I have one, inside my phone.
It’s important to remember that as single women, we are not alone. Though in moments of need or even mild desire, it can feel like we are. I believe the things we rely on to take the place of actual human beings deserve our praise and gratitude. My life, and often my cupboards, would be empty without them.