Noun seeking plurality

Meeting people isn't a problem for me. I know plenty of them because I'm an extrovert who thrives off the energy I get from other people. If I walk the 20 yards from my office in Ernie Pyle Hall over to the Union to get a cup of coffee, I have to plan on taking at least 30 minutes roundtrip because of all the people on my "Say Hello To" list. I spend every day of the week having lunch with somebody. And whether it's cards or watching the latest Ken Burns film with friends, my nights are pretty full, too. Some of my colleagues even told me yesterday that they want me to write a column next semester called "Brandon Morley Knows Everybody," and then talk about all the stories I've collected from people and how they are representative of larger themes in society. That sums up how easy it is for me to get to know people. But that's "people," in the plural, not "someone" in the singular.\nI say singular because that's who I am. Single. I don't really know why. All the people I work with seem to have significant others. All the people I hang out with seem to have significant others. I'm usually the only one in a group who's single. Don't get me wrong, the single life has its distinct advantages -- I do whatever I want with little regard for what others think. But I've been doing that for a pretty long time. And it surprises me that with the amount of people I socialize with, or the amount of people I meet everyday, or the ease of my ability to socialize, that special someone really hasn't turned up.\nI've dated a couple of people before, sure. Well, at least I think I dated someone. I don't really know for sure. We went on four or five dates. They were usually spent eating and then watching a movie or television back at my place. It gave me a taste of what it was like to have somebody to regularly hang out with, share with, plan with and just have an all-around good time putzing. Then both Saturday night and the phone call came: "Brandon, you're a really great guy. But you're too easy to fall in love with, and I don't want to be trapped always wondering what was behind me."\nLots of people tell me I'm a 50-year-old trapped in the body of a 22-year-old, and that I probably would have been better off living in the era of Truman, House Un-American Activities Committee, Doo-Wop and wearing argyle socks with jeans and a white T-shirt. They're very right. I guess I have an old soul that doesn't fit in so well with the young souls of my contemporaries. \nI think most people view me as someone with an asexual personality and never really think of me as a dating option, and thus never make the overtures I wish they would. Or maybe they do, and once they get to know me, they just want me around the way everybody else seems to -- the lively, entertaining presence capable of addressing the highest to lowest form of humanity. That's a great compliment. \nTo paraphrase a line said by the character John Adams in the musical "1776," "I can romp through cupid's grove with great agility." I am 22, I still have my virility. But I don't feel like romping anymore, and if I were a horse, you could say I've sewed all the oats I can -- or at least all the oats I want -- as a single noun yearning to find plurality.