So You Thought It Was Just Us

I think that the major frustration of being single is not that one is single, but that other people treat you like you are the most pitiable creature to grace the Earth. 

It's a form of gaslighting, really. Because when one is single, one is technically able to do all sorts of things, things that are not exactly feasible when one is wed and babied. So instead of spending one's single years doing those things, one spends one's single years calling up shadchanim, attending singles events, and feeling like crud. 

Plus, if I might be honest . . . it's not like marriage results in mindless bliss for everyone. I've been hearing a story or two that wedding does not equal happily ever after. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy to be married—to Han. No one else would do.

Katerina Tsasis' Modern Love essay begins with awful familiarity: 

People treat you differently when you are steadily single. Not everyone, not all the time, not always overtly, not necessarily unkindly. They ask why no one has snatched you up, offer to set you up on blind dates, seat you at the singles table at formal events. . . As a child, I belonged to an immigrant community that viewed marriage and motherhood as a woman’s primary goal in life. . . Here’s another thing that happens when you’re single: Your time and plans are perceived as less fixed and less valid than for people who are married.

She did things. 

Over that next year I learned new subjects, traveled to a dozen countries, practiced speaking other languages, watched an opera staged on the steps of a castle, hiked Mount Kilimanjaro, drove the terrifying roundabout at the Arc de Triomphe.

Singles aren't permitted to enjoy themselves. If they do, then they aren't "serious" about marriage. They have to curl up in a corner and cry non-stop for divine intervention.  They have to view themselves as pathetic and in need of major overhaul. 

She got the same load of crap from people that we do/did. 

At this point, I had stopped believing one needed a partner to be fulfilled in life, but I still thought I must be lacking in some fundamental way — not good enough, attractive enough, nice enough, or something enough — in comparison.

Friends, relatives, acquaintances and even strangers will obligingly point out what you, as a single person, seem to lack. A friend of mine went to see a doctor regarding a mental health question and his prescription was that she needed a boyfriend. Well-meaning relatives urged her to go to church to find a man, even though she’s agnostic.

I have been told I’m too picky, not getting any younger, should put myself out there more, have to fight for love, and should look for a guy who’s more attractive and less attractive, more nerdy and less nerdy, more assertive and less assertive.

Men I have barely known or haven’t known at all have told me I should wear more makeup, change my attitude, do more situps, dress differently, smile more. I’ve heard it on a first date, walking down the street minding my business, and in the middle of a conversation about a totally different subject.

Deja vu all over again. 

And then, a relationship that worked.

There wasn’t any magic about it, no soul awakening, no personal reckoning, no neat and tidy reason as to why it worked where the others hadn’t. I met a man who is a lovely human being. We found shared interests and chemistry. We treated each other with kindness and respect. I’m pretty sure if I had met him years before, or years later, the outcome would have been the same: We got married.

I’m the same person, living in the same place, doing the same job, with the same friends and the same hobbies. There was nothing worse about me before. There is nothing better about me now. And yet, people who treated my singlehood with curiosity, pity or disregard are now warmer and more welcoming. It’s as if I have joined the club.

That's what annoys me. I'm now "acceptable," no longer "three- headed bearded lady." But after so many years as "circus freak," it's kind of hard to readjust to acceptance. I feel like an imposter—"Oh, you are making polite chit-chat, new acquaintance? Don't you know you're supposed to look at me with condescending derision?"

When I lived in Los Angeles, I used to go out with friends and queue for hours to get into some new, exclusive club, only to finally get in and discover there wasn’t much going on inside. The social pressure regarding marriage feels like that, an emphasis on getting through the doorway without enough care for what lies beyond.

Marriage isn't magically, effortlessly wonderful. But little conversation takes place regarding self-improvement to be in the best place for lifetime partnership. It's all about a wedding. Zeh hu. 

On the other side, decimated with exhaustion from a very demanding (yet no less squishy) baby, I'm amazed how they sell this to young young kids who haven't had a chance to do much. I'm enjoying him very much cause I waited so long to have him, but for youngsters, get a chance to do some things, cause one day all you'll want to do is sleep. Plus I've cleaned epic amounts of vomit twice in three days (he's fine! he's fine!).  

Our experiences vary. I can only describe mine. We punish and reward people for how well they conform to our ideals without even realizing it. We punish ourselves when the things we’re told to want keep us from appreciating and enjoying the things we have.

Someone may read this and find my thoughts obvious, trite, outdated. Someone may read this and think I have missed out in life. I’m writing it anyway, for the times I thought: “Maybe I’m imagining things” and “Maybe they’re right” and “Maybe there is something wrong with my life.”

Did this woman read my diary? 

It's very hard to ignore everyone's comments. It's very hard to have self-faith when everyone is telling you that you are a hideous aberration. Now on the other side, I wonder if it's a conspiracy: I'm married, you're not, so let's have a little fun. Because I don't think these comments come from a place of "I'm so delirious with joy in my marriage that I'll make this person feel terrible about being single." 

Marriage doesn't confer any special status. What is it about singles that make marrieds so nervous that they have to inform them that they're a problem? 

Hmmmmm.