« Continue Browsing

e-mail article Print     e-mail article E-mail

John Lamb, Published August 27 2013

Lamb: Bachelor life great for heat wave

Sometimes I think I am missing out by not having a significant other, a child or a pet in my life.

Like at Christmas when I don’t get as many presents as I deserve. Or the day after Halloween, when I need a ready supply of candy to raid. Or when I’m invited to help a friend move, it would be nice to say, “I’d love to, but I have to stay home this weekend and express my cat’s anal glands. Then we’re watching a Sandra Bullock marathon on Lifetime.”

But not today.

No doubt, it’s wonderful to be in a loving relationship, but when it’s this hot and humid, I’m happy living alone. The last thing I want when I get home tonight would be to come within five feet of another hot, sweaty, slobbering, shedding being. I do that just fine by myself, thanks.

Sure, dogs and cats don’t sweat. When they overheat, dogs hang their tongues out and pant like Miley Cyrus at the Video Music Awards. Cats, well, they do their impression of Wolverine and carve you up, without the cool, dry, one-liners.

So maybe they wouldn’t sweat on me, but the last thing I want right now is to wear a new fur sweater.

The only pet I could imagine having right now would be a fish, only because at the end of the work day I’d go home and put my feet in the tank. But not one of those pacu fish from Denmark that make men buy Kevlar Speedos. They’re too bitey.

I’m not anti-social, I’m just selfish. I know my limits, and when it’s sweltering, no one is allowed within an arm’s length of me.

Living alone means more quality, one-on-one time with my air conditioner. I stretch out on the couch just below her and forget the outside world as she whispers frosty sweet nothings in my ear.

My air conditioner doesn’t think twice when the moment I get home I lose my shirt faster than a bro at the beach. And while I certainly don’t have a beach bod, my AC doesn’t wince at my blinding belly or tell me to throw a quilt on and make myself presentable.

At night, I can spread across my bed like the greatest army on the Risk board without fear of the long, hot arm of injustice slapping down on me. When I wake up, there is no hot, morning breath to greet me.

And I don’t have to deal with temperature-related tempers. No one whines, “Leftovers again?” when I serve ice cream for dinner.

And I don’t have to exchange hot, skin-sticking, muggy hugs when someone needs to apologize for snapping at me for using up all of the cold water.

Life is pretty chill for a bachelor in a heat wave.

Readers can reach Forum reporter John Lamb at (701) 241-5533