How about this: unless you’re speaking to a person who is literally about to walk down an aisle to an altar at which they will proceed to exchange vows of lifelong love to another human being, don’t tell them they’re “next” to get married.
That’s what a friend of mine’s sister told her recently, and … well, I’ll just tell you what my friend — a single lady — expressed in response: “RUH RUH!?!?!” Because seriously. Nobody’s “next.” There’s not a wedding pecking order. Nobody is the first person to get married, and matrimony isn’t a race wherein some people come in second, third or fourth place. Keep reading »
The New York Times, ever concerned about the plight of the three people it takes to make a Style Section trend story, has identified a disturbing new tendency among women to … plan their weddings. But wait for it: they’re not just planning their weddings, they’re doing it on the Internet and they’re doing it while single.
The horrors, they are horrifying. Time to muster the judgment and disdain appropriate to the situation: these pathetic cases are wasting their sad-ass time, and their real human relationships are suffering for it, because using the Internet means shunning all human contact, only going outside once a week to get a gallon of milk and a bag of cat food. Keep reading »
People just love to get engaged at Christmastime. I imagine this is a result of a combination of factors, from feeling more family-oriented than usual (although the holidays have the opposite effect on many of us) to the celebratory atmosphere at large and increased presence of shiny objects generally. I spent Christmas Eve “liking” a whole new host of “Blankety Blank is engaged to Persony Person” updates before heading to sleep in my childhood bedroom with my new-ish husband. Keep reading »
I made sure to get the thin crust pizza, because I knew that once it was just me and a couch and Liam Neeson rescuing some people from some horrible shit and/or wolves, I was going to eat all that pizza, and I did not want the bread bloat. I was treating myself. I was worth it. I was alone.
For the past two and a half years, in the process of dating, moving in with and then marrying my husband, I haven’t been alone much. I’d almost forgotten how to do it. I’d almost forgotten how to do something I love to do, and something that I’m very, very good at doing. I don’t mean being single. I mean being solitary. By myself.
For most of my 20s, I was in long-distance relationships, make-up break-up relationships or deep into singledom. I had a lot of opportunities to cultivate my own favorite kinds of solitude: taking long afternoon drives out into the Texas Hill Country, getting a six pack of High Life tallboys, watching British comedies all night, going bonkers on multi-hour sewing project marathons that ended in inevitable disaster. Doing whatever I wanted, when I wanted to, and never having to wonder whether eating all this ranch dip at 3 p.m. is that going to mess up dinner plans. Because I didn’t have dinner plans. And I fucking loved it. Keep reading »
“With ‘Bachelorette,’ I thought of these really thin, beautiful women, who if you saw walking down the street you’d think, ‘These girls have their lives together and it makes me feel bad about myself.’ I wanted to examine how they are gluttonous through drug addiction, materialism, sexual voraciousness, eating disorders — literally take, take, take, consume, consume, consume. Then there is their friend, Becky, who is moving into adulthood. She’s the one who appears to be the gluttonous one, who you might point at and say she has a problem because she’s overweight. You might feel better about yourself and move on. But she’s the one who’s getting out of the prison that these characters have created for themselves. … I couldn’t for the life of me think of one good moniker for these women and who they are that wasn’t punitive. You know what I mean, like ‘Sluts’ or ‘Bitches,’ and who would see a movie called that? All we’ve got is this feminized version of this male idea, that’s, by the way, a great thing if you’re a man. If you’re not married and you’re a straight guy, the world is your fuckin’ oyster, but if you’re single and you’re a woman and you’ve got something going for you, it’s just so sad you’re not married yet. It doesn’t make any sense to me. But what do I know? I’m sad and alone.”
Watching “Bachelorette” on Video On Demand is on my to-do list this evening, so I was interested to read this Q&A with the writer/director Leslye Headland. “Bachelorette,” as you’ve probably heard, is about four high school friends who reunite for one of their weddings — and the other three freak the fuck out because they’re still single and childless. And snorting loads of cocaine, apparently. As someone who is gearing up for her 10-year high school reunion and is also “sad and alone” according to societal standards, I have to say it’s a topic of interest! The subject of the movie, I mean. [BlackBook Mag]
Single ladies, be warned: your singleness may sometimes be confused with craziness. That’s the message New York Times writer Ginia Bellafante sent this past weekend, in a piece entitled, “A Tale of Desperation and Restraining Orders.” In it, she chronicles the sordid tale of Louise Neathway, a woman accused of stalking and extorting money from her former lover, Yankees General Manager Brian Cashman. What’s likely true: the married Cashman had an affair with Neathway — who is also known as Louise Meanwell — and following their tryst, Neathway demanded $15,000 for an undisclosed medical procedure. But while most might read Neathway’s story as a cautionary tale about the risks of entering into an affair with a married man, the Times’ Bellafante instead eeks out a warning to all the poor misbegotten men out there: Single women be crazy, y’all. So watch out.
Keep reading »
I’m too intimidating. I hate birthdays. I hate New Year’s. Yup. I’ve said all of these things and more. Behold, shit single ladies say. [YouTube]
In my early 20s, I’d say I was an Organic Slow and Steady. When I was engaged to my fiance, I definitely thought of myself as a Ritual Re-Inventor. And after our breakup? A Phoenix, baby. Nowadays, I’d consider myself an Organic Someday Mom Trailblazer. What the hell am I talking about? These monikers are just some of the 12 “categories of single women” outlined in Michelle Cove’s Seeking Happily Ever After: Navigating the Ups and Downs of Being Single Without Losing Your Mind (and Finding Lasting Love Along the Way). MarieClaire.com has the full list of single woman types and their brief explanations, writing that Cove “interviewed more than 100 women and talked to them about how relationships based on what they think they should want often leave them unhappy. She tried to determine what it was that they truly wanted — in the process, getting readers to think a little more deeply about what their dream relationship might really be like.” Keep reading »
Somewhere back there, I was left behind. It happened at my book club. When the group started, we were seven women who craved cheap wine more than Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake.
The text was just an excuse to air our grievances: My mom and I are fighting; my boss hates me and I hate her; the new dog is too big for the old apartment; I ran into my ex; you’ll never believe what happened last night.
We drained our glasses and edited each other’s problems. Everything seemed more manageable with corrections. When it came time for Allison* to vent, the responses were different. She was married, her life doubled. Keep reading »