I live with many single girls . . . enough said. And for this reason, I am constantly bombarded with “girly” issues, such as “Why am I single?” and “Why is he just ‘not that into me’?” It’s getting to the point where I must write about it . . . journalism. Who knew it was a medicinal cure?
First off, let’s just own up to the fact that we live in a society centered on substitutes. If you can’t eat meat, they’ve got Tofurkey and “not dogs.” If you’re allergic to milk, lucky for you calcium supplements are on sale. Hey even teachers get fill-ins as do parents on date night. But there is one thing society probably won’t ever find a replacement for; and that my friends is the single stigma.
It’s bad enough that we kick ourselves every time we look in the mirror, finish the bag of Doritos or even think for one solitary moment that we could ever be as skinny as Glamour’s cover model. We’re constantly being bombarded with personal attacks:
“If I start working out then I’ll lose these spare pounds and feel so fabulous that I might even run into a handsome stranger at the gym and he’ll see how radiant I look and feel and he’ll want to take me home to his parents and-“
It’s exhausting and it doesn’t stop there. It seems like every time we enjoy our single subtleties and girl-power moments, we forget about the “secret layer.” The one where as soon as you begin to revel in your freedom you hope someone will see you glow. They say that as soon as you stop looking, he’ll come. Well it doesn’t do any good to want to be single to want to be a relationship now does it? Then why is it that millions of women strive to be happy single so they can one day be happy with a rock on their finger?
It all goes back to Adam and Eve I suppose: where everyone is destined for someone else. It’s instinctual for us to want to be close, share conversation and company with others to connect on higher levels than the rhetorical “Hi, how are you?” Biologically, chemically, emotionally, spiritually, socially and physically we are wired to reach out to someone . . . but what about individually? It quite possibly is the only area of expertise satisfied alone. Yes, alone. Oh the joys of accepting what we must.
It can all tie back to the issue of substitutes too. Why is it that everything else can be substituted, except for love? Of course family and friends serve a great purpose in replacing lonesome tears, but not in the way that society wants them to. They’ll let you skip out on your hamburger bun and replace a well balanced breakfast with yogurt in a tube, but don’t you dare touch the relationship sector. It’s sanctified. It’s accepted.
I’ve always found it amusing to see bachelors praised and single women pitied. As if it is some sort of curse or incessant virus that wont seem to go away without the aide of a man. The single stigma makes women feel as if they’re destined for the local nunnery just because they choose to relish in independence, or even worse-they’re too busy right now to share their lives. I’m slowly beginning to realize that we as single women are drowning in a couple-saturated world, and the only lifeguard within 50 feet
. . . is a single man.