Singlehood

Recently I had a friend send me all the old posts I had posted on my old blog before I switched over to blogger.com. I quite enjoyed reading over the more literary posts I had crafted, and figured that since I am too tired to blog tonight, I would instead repost a vintage piece entitled, "Singlehood".

(Twenty points to anyone who can post a comment on why this particular picture was chosen for this post)

Glancing at my calendar this week, I noticed that every day was booked except for last Tuesday night. I decided to make a date with myself and go eat at Jason's Deli and look for a new mixing bowl at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I tell you, I am a wild one. A tray full of Beef Eater, strawberries, and Baked Lays in front of me and Jack Johnson's new album on my iPod left me in hog heaven. Two bites into my sandwich I spied a girl I went to nursing school with in line waving at me. Next to her was a tan Adonis who would make Brad Pitt question if he was still the hottest man in the room. I suddenly became acutely aware of my ponytail, hospital t-shirt, and au-juice running down my chin. As I quickly preened myself, she rounded the corner to reveal her swollen abdomen. The conversation started at her belly (twins), then moved on to her new husband (doctor), and her job (none, she is married to a doctor). When we ran out of things to cover in her wonderful life, she craned her neck to eye my meal for one, crinkling her sun-kissed nose, and asked how things were going for me. I updated her on my new job (no, not what I really want to be doing), my new place (I don't own, I still rent), and my love life (we broke up and he is now married). She listened with her head cocked sympathetically as she made circuits around her gravid stomach. Not knowing what to say as she reached for her husband's hand, she hastily blurted out, "Well, good luck with all that".

I sat back down to single serving fare and became to ponder her words. Good luck with that? Good luck with what? Being a single woman of a certain age, you become used to people asking you, "So when are you going to settle down?" I never know quite how to answer that. Should I be glib and tell them that it is on my to-do list, I just haven't gotten around to it yet? Or should I be honest and tell them of the overwhelming loneliness that I feel when my soul cries for its companion? Neither answer is satisfactory, and I unsure of what answer I could possibly give them that would be. I am so weary of others pointing out the fact to me as if I was oblivious. I am more acutely aware of my singlehood than any other person could be. It stalks me and taints everything I touch. I have never tried so hard at something and been so bad at it. I heard once that getting married is like playing duet; you can sit down at the piano and play but not matter how hard you try, it still takes someone else to sit down next to you and play their part.

I tire of sitting through half-hearted conversations that always end in, "I am sure it will happen for you". What makes you so sure, when I am not even sure? In the less than 1% of the entire world's population that is male, LDS, and worthy, what are the chances that I will find one who wants to be with me for eternity. I have trouble getting men to commit to dinner, let alone sacred rites in the House of the Lord. This must be what childless couples feel when someone bouncing a cherubic child on their knee as they too are told, "I am sure it will happen for you". Perhaps people utter these words because they too recognize the bleakness of that future. They cannot imagine what it would be like to walk this world alone, and the thought of eternity yawning out in front of them sends waves of panic through their chest. What else can they say?

There is a definite division between the marrieds and the single. I have bid entire generation of ward families into couplehood and have yet to see one of them since. It is as if they disappear into the spirit world and those of us left on earth can not longer see or speak to them. One day when you slip into the spirit world, you are going to see all the old friends you thought you had lost, just waiting to induct you into their cult. You will start doing things like going to Pampered Chef parties, singing the praises of the Diaper Genie, and perfecting your condolatory head tilts for all those you left behind in singlehood.

After finishing my sandwich and my pondering, I waved across the room to my former classmate as she left. I am happy for her, and truly do hope that the grass is greener on her side of the fence. I would be lying if I did not say that I wish I was her. But on that night, I sat back down at my tiny table, with my ice cream cone in hand and though, you know I might just have another, for no one will be seeing me naked tonight. Let's hear three cheers for me as I strive to enjoy my singlehood.