Okay, so I’m not exactly single.
But I do check the “Single” box on my taxes. Does that count? I’ll overrule for the moment, and say, yes. Yes, it counts.
Besides, it would be okay if I were absolutely single. It’s infuriating that society derides the single life. Oh, Being Single is fine when you’re young and carefree and haven’t settled down with the right person. It’s even given a place of honor within the Love Story. The part where you date and explore.
But eventually being Single is equivocated to being left behind, eaten by wild Alsatians.
Single people can’t truly be happy. How silly for them to pretend to be luxuriating in freedom. Everyone knows they’re secretly miserable and pining for a baby of their own (which accounts for the gleeful look from the single woman in the animated Storks movie when a random baby got dropped in her arms from the sky. Dream. Come. True.).
The condemned Single Person is the unattached, lonely individual that eats individually sized, frozen meals. Every article on Being Single or Dating in the Modern World reminds you of this. Being single is a fridge filled with beer and dried out leftover pizza. It’s never getting a bouquet of flowers at work (although my one romantic partner believes flowers represent death, so I’d just as soon not receive them from him). It’s lying, wide eyed, at night, staring at the ceiling and clutching your Japanese body pillow.
Being Single isn’t a sentence; it’s a state of being– sometimes a choice.
It’s not pitiable to be single. I miss it. I miss that I could uproot my life and travel across the world on a dime (literally and figuratively; I was broke, but I still did it). I can’t do that now– I have to consider my obligations.
Being Single represents freedom. You can go anywhere you like, without any thought or consideration for anyone but yourself. And, yes, you may one day be okay with giving up that bit of freedom, but why not enjoy it while it lasts?
I am not unhappy, but I wasn’t unhappy then, either (well, maybe a little, but not because I didn’t have my other half to “complete” me). I miss that I don’t feel responsible for anyone but me, because it can be hard. I don’t miss all of it. I don’t miss waking up alone. But I do miss some of it.
Don’t feel bad for being single, please.
If someone says they feel bad you spent Valentine’s Day alone, look at them with mild bewilderment, and say, “Oh, okay.” Then carry on with your life choices. Like it never occurred to you to feel bad for not having a spouse, anymore than you feel bad for not buying a pet gerbil. Yeah, the gerbil-less life is pretty tough.
Because you will find someone. Or you won’t. Worry about your friends. Worry about your family. Worry about those who love you, and whom you love. Or worry about yourself. Whichever is best for you. Because you are worth it.
I like to say I am still Solo, for what it’s worth. I am my own person; I am Singular; a unique, and self contained person.
And I like to think I’m pretty happy. So there’s that.