Five years ago, I had a very clear idea of how I wanted my life to go. College, meet my "future husband," fall hopelessly in love, get married (preferably before college ended or at the worst immediately following graduation), and spend the rest of my life following him around. Maybe with a job, but most definitely no real independence, because that would require me to take risks. I was prepared to compensate for my lack of real-life experience with a husband who would do all of the hard stuff (like paying rent or taxes) while I cooked, cleaned, and popped out as many kids as possible. Perfect, right? [insert enormous amounts of sarcasm here]
Problem is, I never found "the one," and I found myself forced to redefine my life in order to avoid the heartbreak of being "unloved." If I'm not married, the best way to deal with it is to convince myself that single-hood is what is best for me, and, what's more, is what I want, even more than marriage. I moved across the country in part to prove my ability to be entirely independent. I have my own apartment, I will be doing my own taxes, and I am entirely (aside from my cell-phone and health insurance [which I could get from the school but choose not to for simplicity's sake]) independent. Success.
Being single has its advantages. I hear it every day (okay, not literally, but close). I can move across the country on a whim. I can make my own decisions. At this point the advantages seem to end... interesting, eh? It seems that marriage is the preferred life situation; however much people assure me that my life is okay the way it is, underlying it all is the assumption that I should be earnestly seeking a husband.
I'm sick of it. I'm sick of feeling inferior to my married peers. I understand that marriage and children radically changes and matures a person. But it's hard to be single sometimes. Not necessarily because I'm dying to be married, but because it feels like single-hood is a dead end that requires a conclusion before age thirty at the risk of living a meaningless life.
I wish that it were possible to radically redefine what it means to be single. I wish that I wasn't constantly asked if I have a boyfriend. I wish I wasn't constantly informed that "when the time is right and I meet the right one it will happen." What if it never happens? What if (insert copious amounts of horror here) I spend the rest of my life "alone?" Oh, the horrors...
And, interestingly enough, my issues with single-hood do not end here.
What if - *gasp* - there's something wrong with me? It's possible, in fact, it's probable. No, it's certain. I know myself too well, it seems. I know my flaws. Some of these flaws, however, remain a mystery: what about me is so repulsive to compel someone to walk away with not so much as a goodbye? Why is it that I was never asked to prom? There's obviously a reason. And don't play the "Barlow Girl" card on me. They're not lining up to date me, and there's obviously some (probably negative) reason for this. I'm probably doing something wrong. Or maybe I am just inherently flawed. Either way, it's my problem.
And this, my friends, is my honest attempt to illustrate why I wish somewhat desperately that single-hood could be redefined. After all, yeah, there are about 85 trillion things wrong with me. Maybe I am unlovable. But I refuse to believe that I am any more unlovable than my married peers. For some reason, though, I am single. I've been hopelessly single for all but two and a half weeks of my life and let's not continue to pretend that I'm simply patiently waiting for the one. I am not always so patient as I may appear. Yes, I'm okay with being single, and yet, paradoxically, I'm not okay with it. At all.
Top Four Difficult Things About Being Twenty-Two and Single (in no particular order because that's too much work at 1:15 in the morning)
4) A single girl sits with her family at the Christmas Eve church service and is forced to watch all the other young (and old, for that matter) married people arrive and sit together. Yet another example of the ways in which my single-hood excludes me from the married club, which, for some undisclosed reason is seen as more prestigious than the single club.
3) My friends slowly start dating, get engaged, and then married. While they're dating, they may start spending more time with their boyfriend than with their single friends, but it's still pretty normal. Their engagement, for me (aside from being happy for them, which I am, please don't read this blog entry as a hate note to married people :) ) is a chance to adjust to the fact that within a few months they will have entered the other side and will be even less accessible. Slumber parties will now be a thing of the past, and they will have a whole realm of experiences that they cannot (not that I want them to) discuss with me.
2) I'm alone. I live alone. (Even the potential for a roommate does not change the fact that I am fundamentally on my own in the important things of life.) I move alone. I make decisions alone. I cry alone. I laugh alone. I have wonderful friends, but they do not live life with me, but simply parallel or alongside but eventually diverging.
1) I am continuously subjected to well-meaning comments about "when you get married." As I have previously made clear, who knows if that will actually happen? The odds or appeals to probability simply remind me that there will come a time where my singleness will stop being relatively normal and will start to be a topic of conversation for my friends: "I wonder why she never got married." etc.
Yep, it's a dreary, dreary world. Actually, not really. I'm quite happy and as relatively well-adjusted as is possible given my oddities. I don't spend my days moping about my single status. However, this rant has been a long time coming. I would love to be accepted as a single woman, no strings attached. No presumptions that marriage is "just around the corner:" this presumption made it incredibly hard for me to accept the fact that I was graduating from college without a fiance, and I am not a huge fan of dreading birthdays because it means I'm that much closer to "old-maid" status. I would like to be free to love life as it comes. To embrace the joys of each day I am given, and to be respected as an adult, even if I don't have an expensive rock on my left ring finger. To all my single friends: I understand. This is for you.
I know I don't have a husband, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to cook.
Amen, Mar. I think it's a "small town curse." Since everyone gets married, you should too. However, I've met so many great single women who yeah, though they want a husband, are superbly content to be single living life with God. Good for you being strong and independent. You're much handier than you know, and who wants to grow up?? I mean honestly if single means I can be a goofball forever, count. me. in. :) Let's be ring-less friends :) Love ya,
ReplyDeleteAshley W