Kelly Clarkson would be proud of me.

The other week I was out to lunch with, and had the wonderful pleasure of getting to know, two older, accomplished, corporate American women (ages ranging 35 to 45). Adorned with their casual chic business attire, diamond-ed fourth fingers, and their fun-loving but sophisticated auras, the two framed a good sense of what it is to be a woman of substance as determined by American cultural standard; the two displayed “the package deal.”

In the midst of getting to know one another, the younger of the two asked me with a sly smile if I had a “boyyyfriend.” To which I responded with a cheeky, “Nope, I’m single and lovin’ it.” The women accepted my response with an “Oh, fun—” a slight smile, and an awkward “Where do I go from here?” flicker in her held eye contact. The second woman then interjected, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you ‘lovin it?’”

Let’s hold it right there, and debrief for a moment. For the second woman to ask that question means that she had to come to the conclusion that first, being single would doubtfully lead to optimal happiness (me “lovin’ it”), and secondly, that I perhaps was disguising an insecurity I didn’t want to admit up front—that I’d have to be questioned a second time in order to get the truth (that I wasn’t loving it). However, I had simply voiced an honest truth: when I said that I am single and loving it, I meant it. So when the follow up question came, it invoked a response from myself that caught me off guard. In retrospect, the question struck a cord I myself was surprised could be hit.

I was alarmed for several reasons, many of which my best friend helped me sift through in later discussion.

First of all, why is it considered normal to break ice in speaking with women (especially) by asking about their love life? As my best friend puts it wisely, “Why am I not asked what book I’m reading before which boy I’m dating?”

Secondly, why is a woman assumed to not be telling the truth when she states that she likes being single and furthermore embraces it?

Thirdly, given the situation I’ve delineated, if a man had been asked whether he was seeing someone, would his honesty have been questioned should he had claimed loving being single?

And lastly, why wouldn’t I love to be single?

I wanted all of these questions answered, but obviously couldn’t ask them. Which is why when I responded to this woman I went a bit Gloria Steinman on her. I said, “Because a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.”

…Just kidding. No, I did not say that, though a part of me may have wanted to. What I did say went along the lines of, “I love not having to be tied to someone else. I’ve done the serious relationship thing and the thought of having to worry about someone else’s time and how much of mine I’m giving to them is exhausting right now. I like being able to do what I want, when I want. I mean it all sounds kinda weird, but being single…it’s really just kind of empowering, it’s pretty liberating. And I’m happy with it. I have good friends, we go out, we hang out, and so I don’t necessarily feel as though I’m missing something socially. We’re just having fun—I’m 22, and I feel like this is the time where I should live life like I am.”

I didn’t mean to, it just happened, and before I knew it I was sitting there looking at this perfectly respectable woman with a kind of nervous energy, like a child who had just blabbed an inappropriate story they knew they shouldn’t have. I thought, “Amanda, ‘empowered’? ‘Liberated’? Who the f*ck are you? She just wants to know if you have a boyfriend for crying out loud!” I didn’t regret my words, but I was embarrassed. In my state of slight self-loathing, I began to run through redemption lines—silly jokes I could make at my own feminist expense, a change of topic completely. But before I could make my next move, the woman looked at me shaking her head, to my surprise, smiling from ear to ear. She said, “That’s not weird at all.” And she left it at that, letting it sit momentarily for all of us to take in.

In retrospect, I probably gave the best answer I could have for what the circumstances permitted “appropriate.” But if I were being brutally honest, I would have told her all the reasons for why I love being single. I would have said that I am single because the responsibility and dedication I personally like to put forth in my relationships is something I simply, in this transitory and explorative time in my life, do not possess, nor care to. I would have told her that I love being able to explore different people with no strings attached, with the purpose of simply enjoying another’s presence (romantically or not) in my here and now life—no matter how temporary it may be. I would have said that I like being single because I don’t feel a void that can’t be fulfilled by good friends. That I love it because it allows for me to get acquainted with my new early twenties, post-abroad, career formulating, adventure seeking person I seem to have trouble keeping up with myself. I’d have said I love being single because the relationship one has with oneself is the most valuable relationship they can and will ever foster. And I would have said that ultimately I love being single because, well, a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.

Some may think that is all baloney, that I’m in denial. There are certain conditions to take into consideration of course. There are generational factors to account for, and there are different kinds of relationships that serve different purposes. I have to say that this is all not to undermine romantic relationships, for I think that the ability to partake in one is an admirable quality. Engaging in relationships is an essential part of life, but being in a relationship doesn’t need to be a constant variable to life or optimal happiness.

My point remains: often times, it is too easily forgotten that a single person does not necessarily equate to a lonely person. Significant others are not the only individuals or things that can lend purpose and fulfillment to one’s life. Unfortunately, understanding or accepting this fact alone is simply not done. The failure to accept this furthermore makes it acceptable to deem individuals that embrace a single status as being abnormal, unhappy, and/or of questionable sexuality—often when none of these determinations or judgments actually hold water.

There’s a reason the woman who asked me that question told me my response was not out of the ordinary despite having initially appeared to think otherwise. It’s all a matter of perspective. For now, this is mine.