The Cheese Stands Alone

People really fall in love.

I mean some people. Not me.

Well, I fall in love, but other people don’t. Not with me anyway.

Sometimes I wonder if the whole thing is some cosmological joke. Like people find each other and that’s that. There are 6 billion people on the planet. I may be more right-brained, but even I can figure out that finding someone you can deal with the rest of your life is difficult.

Yet everyone is hurrying around, desperate to grab into someone before graduation. Apparently we have an expiration date, and it comes with tassels and a gown.

North Park offers B.A.’s and some M.A.’s but so many come and leave with their MRS. Degree. Is that really the only thing that you want to take away from college? Can we logically believe that everyone is really right here? I mean, how convenient. You barely had to break a sweat on that one.

I can’t seem to watch a show, or have coffee with a friend or even walk through the library without being blasted with loneliness for all the people around me.

I left for 5 months and everyone paired off.

And the cheese stands alone.

But it’s not even like I’m Brie that people pretend to like even though they get really frustrated with my rind or even a Kraft single that everyone loves but only kids are comfortable enough to admit it.

No, I’m the smelly cheese that sits alone at Whole Foods with a half off sticker on it and still nobody wants to come near it. No one would eat me if they paid them.

Okay, maybe if they got paid and that’s how shows like Fear Factor get made.

And that’s why prostitutes have jobs.

The point is people don’t need a relationship to be happy. So why can’t the world just let me be single and fine with it?

I believe in love. I do. And it changes people. It makes you see every day differently. So does cocaine. And like cocaine, you want everyone else to try it too. That’s why junkies are always friends.

I appreciate that my friends want me to have what they have. I do too.

But I want it at my own time.

I promise that if there’s someone I’m meant to be with, God will help me find him. Because really, he’s the ultimate wingman.

To that end, let’s just be patient.

Let your friends be single. Some weird Frenchman will come and yell “Sacrebleu!” and grab the smelly cheese because they alone appreciate it. There’s someone for everyone.

Even stinky cheeses.