This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at App State chapter.

I find myself with the rest of you twentysomethings in college who are single. It’s not something I planned either. It’s something I chose, something I am choosing.

But, that’s not how it used to be…

I never hated being single, unlike some people do. I may have complained, but I never hated it. I was single all throughout high school. I watched my friends go in and out of relationships, and I couldn’t wait for that to be me. I couldn’t wait to go on a date. I couldn’t wait to have my first kiss. I couldn’t wait to have someone to give me their jacket when I was cold. I couldn’t wait for someone to call me their girlfriend and me call him my boyfriend.

Now, I don’t believe in soulmates. I don’t like using the clichéd phrase “true love.” (I prefer “right love.”) But, I couldn’t wait for my other half. I couldn’t wait for someone to come along. I was so impatient that if some guy, who I thought was decently cute, gave me the time of day, he was immediately more attractive in my eyes, and I started to see him differently.

The point is when I did finally have my first serious relationship, I wanted it for all the wrong reasons. Did I love him? Of course, we dated for a little over 15 months. I was in love with the guy, so I was heartbroken when I realized I lost him, when I realized what I had lost. After that, I realized (with the help of family and friends) how much I need to focus on myself and not worry about guys right now.

Because, honestly, collegiettes, I’m not ready. It sounds so childish. In a little over a month, I’ll be 21. I’m not worried about being single or why I’m single because I chose the single life, the single life didn’t choose me. If you’re like me, you shouldn’t worry either, because you may be single for the same reasons I’m single. So, sit back with your Netflix and laugh at the possible satirical explanations for why I’m still single.

I’d rather stay in than go out…sometimes.

Unless I feel I’ve been cooped up in my room for far too long, I’d much rather stay in on a Friday night than go to a party any day. I’d rather have a cuddle session with Jamie Dornan and the rest of the cast on “Once Upon A Time” or David Schwimmer and the rest of the cast on “Friends” than have my mind race a million times a second with someone else.

I still think about my last relationship.

I can’t commit.

I don’t want you to meet my family.

It’s nothing against them or him. I just get embarrassed really easily.

I don’t want to tell the world about the relationship.

(I.E., Facebook)

I’m the queen of “I don’t know.”

I love twin beds.

I’ve had my twin bed at my parent’s since I was in kindergarten, and I think I’m one of the only college kids who likes their twin-sized mattress, so there’s no room for anyone else.

I have an unhealthy relationship with social media and Netflix.

Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat… Need I say more?

I don’t do affection.

Only I’m not British.

I am selfish.

I don’t always say the right thing.

I will think about other guys.

He said my name. He smiled at me. He’s cute. Omg, he text me back. WHY WON’T HE TEXT ME BACK? Yup. It’s a problem that I’ve pretty much came to terms with.

I will flirt with other guys.

I am too picky.

I am a hypocrite.

I can be a real witch sometimes.

I make poor decisions (if I make a decision, of course).

I’m still maturing.

I live in the past.

I overthink *literally* everything.

I whine.

I squeal (too loudly) like the college girl I am.

I can go from unbearably clingy to disturbingly distant (and there’s no in between).

I can change moods faster than you can blink.