Why are you single?

I swear to god the most annoying combination of four words ever.

More annoying than if the entire metropolis of New York City got up and collectively scraped their fingernails down blackboards across the entire city.

More annoying than if you were to just barely miss the train for the rest of your entire life.

More annoying than if a million people were to start blogs, stealing all the great domain names, only to post three entries. Ever.

I must say I am asked this question - or a near relative of - at least once a month, if not more. Yes, I am aware that the person uttering the enquiry is trying in some sick, twisted way to be complimentary.

Let me set the record straight.

1) The men who tend to ask the question always are men that I would never date, for myriads of reasons. This one really just puts the nail in the coffin.

2) Asking this question in some way insinuates there is something wrong with being single. I happen to really like being unattached, probably one of the reasons I'm not in such a rush to change my situation.

3) This query also implies in some manner that I have little less than a choice in the matter. That for some reason a man has not been crafty enough to snatch me up, as obviously being single I am like a puppy in the pound, helpless and in need of someone to come in and take me home with them.

4) Sometimes this subject is even a not-so-delicate probe to discover what insane habit or mental state I must be hiding to scare all of the good men off.

5) Finally, that something as complex, beautiful, and thrilling as my life can be defined by a simple answer to a completely irrelevant question insults me.

I balk at giving the simple "I just haven't found the right guy yet" answer. I have found a few, actually, and have enjoyed them all and committed to none. For many reasons that are now immaterial.

A blank stare, a mumbled "yeah..." and then a quick change of subject have worked for me in the past, just so I can get away from the offender as fast as possible.

But I have decided I need something with oomph. Something that will stop them in their interrogatory tracks. Don't get me wrong; I'm not going to be insulting or rude. This person is obviously working with more than one handicap; I don't need to add to their load. It’s bad for karma.

This is how it will go from now on.

Poor misguided soul asks me: "Why are you still single?"

I shrug, and say, "I think my second job tends to put guys off."

Now he is curious. "What is your second job?"

I look carefully, slowly from left to right. I beckon for him to come closer; this is something I have to say softly.

"I am an assassin." I say in an undertone. "For some reason guys get queasy about blood. And sometimes they don't feel so comfortable knowing I sleep with an ice pick under my pillow."

It will get a good laugh; leave plenty of opportunities for other jokes. If I have any luck I'll be able to throw in what I did to the last guy who asked me the evil question.

In preparation for this scenario, I am practicing my eye twitch.

Just to keep 'em on edge - you know.