'Tis Not A Crime

This has got to be the kazillionth time I'm answering this question. And he's definitely the kazillionth person to ask.

"You're single? But why?"

"Because I am. Because I'm not attracted to the men who like me, and the men I like are not available to me just yet. And you know what, there's nothing to be defensive about. This crazy little thing called 'Love' - I'll tell you what I think It's all about.

Love is an idea. It's so fragile It could break if you breathed too hard. It has no shape, no form, no colour, no fragrance. You make It what It is, in your own mould to your own liking. That's why people find Love in different ways, they see Love in different things. It's their own personal fantasy and reality. Some like it hot, some like it cold, some like it in the pot, nine days old.

Love has no formula. You cannot calculate the breadth, length, width, height or weight of your emotions to equal Love. Love just happens to you. Because you are made different from others, you have your own thresholds. And your version of Love responds to you and you alone. Love and Insanity are of the same kind. No one can convict you of crime when you plead Insanity. And when you're in Love, you're pretty much insane anyway. You do the maddest things in Its name. Because Love gets to you in a BIG way - it gets to your brain, your heart and your bones. You ache and you don't even know where it hurts. Love agitates without even breaking a sweat, and that makes you Insane with frustration.

Love cannot be forced into anything it doesn't want to do. You cannot mould It, or even ask It to follow you. It's like a beautiful animal from the wild that you can't understand and can't predict. It might walk beside you or It might bite. It perches itself on your window sill, and that's where it shall be. There's nothing else you can do but just smile, offer it some seeds that it might feast on and grow, and make cosy your home. It may fly away, but know that it wasn't your fault. It just decided your window sill wasn't the one It wanted, that's all. You just have to be big hearted enough to accept that not all birds that perch on your sill would want to be your pet. If they fly, they fly.

Love to me is not unlike a shrub. I've never boasted of a green thumb, me. So shrubs grow and die in my care. Sometimes I'm lucky and they don't die. Sometimes I'm even luckier and the most amazing flowers grow! But whatever the case, I water them with Love anyway. They might never grow flowers, but they will always be green, and will remain green till they cannot green no more. In this little mystery called Love, my house is filled with Love shrubs. I have family and friends who - like the birdies, perch on my sill, and shrubs grow green in the sunshine of my Love. If they were birdies, they never come in, but they never fly away. they like it there on my sill. If they were shrubs, they never flower, but they make the most beautiful green carpet on my floor. See? Whatever it is, I'm never alone and I'm never lonely.

So this thing called Love - it's Everything and Anything. Sometimes it's even Nothing. But most definitely it's Something. And if I were you, I wouldn't worry too much about it. Because you must know that Love is Here, There, Everywhere. Under a leaf, beneath a stone, behind the forest, in the wake of a new day, in the purr of a cat, in the smell of coffee.



Love has definitely happened to me, and it didn't happen in the form of a Man. It happened in the form of Living. So you see, 'tis not a crime to be single. It's just another way of being in Love.