An Ode to Singledom

 I haven’t got the faintest clue

of things to come, and lives anew.

Surely, no reminder serves best 

than Valentine’s, that horrid fest. 

The epidemic is quite widespread, 

a world awash in pink and red. 

Chocolate lingers in the air,

and I don’t mean to cause despair,

to say that sweets are those temptations

that lead to certain, grim damnation.

Flowers bought, all fresh with dew

but does no one realize?

Like me, and you, they will die, too.

All in the name of love, they say,

And what is love but a big cliché?

Disney, with all its best intentions, 

has inevitably led us astray,

for now a movie has been made 

of “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

For sex, it seems, we’ve built a shrine,

and it shouldn’t come as a surprise,

that love is all the more arduous to mine.

Much in our life does ache,

our souls, our hearts

at times, may break.

Still, we’ve formed quite an illusion

that love mends existential confusion.

And so “Singledom” has become

a cursed spinster life succumbed.

Then, Valentine’s is quite a dismal date

for those with so damned a fate.

Take it from a spinster in the making,

“Singledom” has merits we are forsaking.

The future holds great mystery,

the present makes up our history,

and we can never be truly sure

that our decisions are the cure.

But in all of life, there is one truth,

and better to learn it in your youth!

People come, and people go

but upon yourself, you are forever bestowed.

Surely, it is already hard to find

who you are in the eyes of mankind,

but even harder to divine

when to another you’ve been entwined.

Though, indeed, love comes in many forms;

family, friendship and other norms.

These relationships, you will come to discover

can hold more truth than that of a lover.

But the life of a nun, I must admit,

Is a life for which very few are fit.

Perhaps, then, “Singledom”’s greatest merit

is the uncertainty of the present.

Not every encounter is an asset,

but surely there are many prospects.

Such is the nature of life,

to be rife with disappointment,

but in that, holds excitement.

I still haven’t the faintest clue

of things to come, and lives anew.

As this Valentine’s approaches,

some skepticism, this column poses. 

Also, yet, a cheer

that in the coming year,

we find more to hold so dear.

Bethel primarily writes about social issues and current events for The Pitt News. 

Write to Bethel at beh56@pitt.edu.