BY WILLIAM HARVEY, King High

I’ve always been told by others to stop being such a kid. I believed in Santa Claus until middle school, and I’m not ashamed to say that I still drag out the tub of Legos every now and then. The one time I will jump on the “grow up” bandwagon, however, is when it comes to romantic relationships. Surely by now we’ve realized that the quick, perfect and happily-ever-after romances of Disney princes and princesses is a concept that does not apply to high school.

When I think of connecting in high school with a significant other, looking into the future I see only one possibility, a messy and horrific breakup. No matter how hard I try, the high school saw blade will sever any relationship I form. With the certain pitfalls and stresses of high school, I cannot see how anyone can expect to date a schoolmate, then marry and stay wedded into the years of arthritis, back pain and Depends.

Take schoolwork and tests, for instance. Exam season is the siren, beckoning couples in the high school tunnel of love onto the rocks of breakup as study stress and the accompanying lack of time and energy to devote to that special someone fuel the fire (the wrong kind). I pity any seniors passing out Valentine’s notes today, because four months from now (or earlier, depending on college-acceptance-letter fallout), they’re going to wish they’d never made that first eye contact with their loved one.

The high school bachelor life is prime with opportunity. No reason to shackle myself to  anyone when I have some of the most carefree years ahead of me. I can go to football games with friends and avoid the third degree from my date’s overprotective parents, “Where are you going after the game? What time will you have my daughter back? What is your long-term plan for the future?”

For goodness’ sake, I’m 17, I don’t even know which college I’ll go to. I don’t have long-term plans, or I would be working on them instead of going out with your daughter.

And while a future spouse may disagree, the cost of dating can be disproportional for the guy. Taking that special someone to dinner will always be more pricey than taking my “special no one” and dining alone, or even a taking a friend who pays his or her own way. Sad and pitiful, you say? I see it as a chance to chose what I want to eat. No fear of bad breath, awkward tension when paying the bill, and the inability to leave without a round of sheepish banter over who loves whom more, promises to call later and then a debate about who will hang up first.

So on this Valentine’s Day, I challenge anyone celebrating Singles Awareness Day to ask yourself if the box of Chinese food on your lap is really as depressing or lonely as it seems, or if it’s actually an MSG-laden symbol of freedom.

I may march to the beat of different drummers, but those drummers are me, myself and I.