“Today is Single’s Day,” she said, looking up from her computer screen.  She was on the couch, naked under the throw.

“What’s that?” I asked, sitting at the table, drinking a coffee.

“Single’s Day!”

“You can repeat that as many times as you want, I don’t understand.”

“Eleven eleven.”

I made a confused face.

“One-one, one-one.  Get it.  Singles.  A bunch of singles.”

“What a stripper picks up after her third dance.”

“It’s not a riddle.  Today is Single’s Day because the date spells out four ones.”

“So is it for people looking to have a four-some?”

“It’s for anyone who is single.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, I’m wondering if I’m single or not?”

“How do you identify?”

“Hotwife.”

“There you go.”

“But people are always confused because they think that implied in ‘hotwife’ is wife.  So they think I’m married.  But I’m not.  I’m single.”

“Single, but attached.”

“Single, but dating.”

“Dating, but not faithful.”

“Faithful, but not monogamous.”

“Non-monogamous, but. . .”

“OK, that is too much!  Do you think I should celebrate today?”

“Celebrate being single?”

“Yeah.”

“How would you celebrate?”

“I don’t know.  It’s Single’s Day, so maybe I should have solo-sex.”

“You do that every day.”

“But today I could do it intentionally.”

“So other days it’s accidental?”

“Well, today it would be as part of an international event.”

“Only you could make masturbation an international event!”

“I didn’t do it, Daddy, it’s on the calendar.  It’s just math.”

“Mathematical masturbation, now I’ve heard it all.”

“If you’re into the math, I’ll invite you to observe my figure.”
“Whatever the problem is, that is the correct answer!”