My answer should have come easily. When my boyfriend went out of town on a recent weekend, I got the question often: “Do you miss him?”

The short response, of course, was yes. But then there was another answer: the part of me that looked forward to ordering a whole pizza topped with mushrooms, as opposed to the usual half-pepperoni/half-mushroom order.

We’ve all heard that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Generally, that’s true. After watching military spouses deal with extended separation periods, I appreciate their sacrifices — and, comparatively, the comfort of my relationship — a little more after a weekend apart.

That said, I also like my mushroom pizza.

It’s interesting to watch the wide range of reactions that happen when one half of a relationship goes out of town. Sometimes, complete panic ensues: a harsh realization that dividing household responsibilities only works when both parties are present. While you struggle with locks and mechanical appliances, your partner’s return can’t come soon enough.

Then, there is the opposite reaction: behavior that encompasses the plot lines that dominate Hangover” films. After two nights of drunken escapades, you summarize the weekend as “pretty boring” when your significant other comes back to town.

Earlier this week, my colleague Sara Pauff informed readers this is Unmarried and Single Americans Week. Moments of brief separation remind us of the refreshing sense of independence that often comes with singledom.

Too often, the outside world assumes that if we don’t completely crumble in a partner’s absence, there’s something wrong with the relationship.

I told inquiring minds the truth. Yes, I did miss my boyfriend during his weekend away. Yet I also ordered my mushroom pizza, ate whenever I wanted and savored the freedom to wait an hour before doing the dishes.

Then suddenly, I wanted some Gatorade.

I grabbed a bottle and tried to unscrew the top. It didn’t open. I tried again. It still didn’t open. I tried hard enough to get a blister on my right hand. It still didn’t open. At 11:30 p.m., I couldn’t open my Gatorade.

This was usually my boyfriend’s job.

Thirsty and blistered, I realized the answer to the aforementioned question wasn’t so complicated after all. We’re all capable of existing alone, even enjoying it.

But sometimes, it’s nice to have an extra hand.