Some people are afraid of being alone. I am not; I thrive in solitude. Yet, so many relationships are built off the fear of the passage of time and a pressure to marry. There are external factors of course, like grandparents demands that you procreate with a virgin to give them fat little perpetually pooping vessels to live vicariously through, as if adult diapers and a constant reminder of their children’s, your parent’s , names is anything but an infantile regression itself. The quixotic biological imperatives of the female partner’s reproductive life cycle is also a hindrance to blissful silence…
