Column:
The science of being single
Published Oct. 27, 2008
I am a pretty talented person.
I can recite scenes from "The Parent Trap." I once won the top prize in a floral arrangement competition. And I always bake from scratch.
I'm also very good at being single.
I've had lots of practice. Excluding Blake Bennett, my boyfriend for a day in fourth grade, I've only been in one short relationship. And since that relationship never made it to Facebook, my friend Eric says it doesn't count.
But practice doesn't always make perfect. I might spend hours practicing my flute but, if I don't use a metronome to keep time, I will learn the rhythms incorrectly. Similarly, you can be bad at being single, even if your season of singleness has become an established state of being.
I think I'm really, truly good at being single.
I'm legitimately excited for my more relationship-able friends. I love hearing about their significant others, and I can handle hours of detailed gushing before I need a chocolate break.
If I'm home alone while my friends are out on dates, I'm perfectly content shopping online (next up: bright red tights) or watching "Sex and the City" reruns.
And although I've spent 18 Valentine's Days alone, I still think it's an adorable holiday.
Why am I so good at being single?
I research. I've learned leading theories for perpetual singleness, which are deeply rooted in biology and economics. I can understand and perfect the art of being alone, because I can link my singleness to science.
Actually, my friend Amber tells me I'm just too obnoxious to be relationship-prone. Apparently, most guys aren't stunned by embroidered muumuus and spirited renditions of "High School Musical 3." Who knew?
But I like my muumuu too much to let her opinions sway me. I blame amnosia instead.
Yes, amnosia. I can't smell.
I can't smell roses or my beloved extra-strong coffee. And I can't smell MHC - major histocompatibility complex - a set of genes that control the immune system.
The most compatible partners have sufficiently different MHC, Jeffrey Kluger reports in Time magazine. You unconsciously detect these dissimilar, happy-relationship-causing MHCs by smelling them. Unfortunately, I can't smell out my Mr. Right.
The amnoisa problem is two-fold. Even when I do find a boyfriend, I'll unwittingly choose a guy with horrible body odor, and we mysteriously won't be invited to dinner parties.
I place a high value on dinner parties.
Singleness extends beyond the olfactory glands. Some economists apply rational decision-making and other economic principles to relationships, romance and love, as well.
Writer Mark Gimein likens relationships to an auction driven by economic game theory. In the auction of love, some women - known as strong bidders - will be confident in their prospects, and other weak bidders are less certain, he explains.
Shouldn't the strong bidders, women who are deemed by society as more of a catch, win?
Nope.
"Game theory predicts, and empirical studies of auctions bear out, that auctions will often be won by 'weak' bidders, who know that they can be outbid and so bid more aggressively, while the 'strong' bidders will hold out for a really great deal," Gimein writes in a Slate magazine article.
And Ray Fisman, an economist at Columbia University, analyzed hundreds of speed-dating sessions to discover what makes the heart beat.
Men put significant worth on their perception of a woman's beauty, Fisman reports in another Slate article. (Luckily, perception is the operative word; opinions of beauty can and do vary greatly.)
Women, on the other hand, value intelligence. In fact, "intelligence ratings were more than twice as important in predicting women's choices as men's," Fisman wrote.
Tonight, as I'm researching the science of singleness, two of my best friends are out with their boyfriends; another is preparing for her boyfriend to move to Columbia next weekend.
I may be good at being single, but I'm feeling the need to buy those bright red tights, stat.
