Apparently I’m either really lucky or really oblivious.
According to a recent study, single women between the ages of 25-35 feel intensely “scrutinized by friends, family members and others for their singlehood.”
And I just don’t. So either my friends, family, et al are genuinely non-judgmental and supportive about my relationship status, or they’re silently judging me and I’m too socially inept to tell.
If people are thinking, “Single still? Must be something wrong with her!” I’m generally inclined to agree, when I compare myself to social standards. See, I’m quite happy on my own, and that seems to imply a kind of basic malfunction in my personality. I’m glad to go home to nothing more demanding than the cuddly silence of the cat and the bouncing, cheerful submission of the dog.
Maybe there is something terribly wrong with me, that my job and family and friends and life are sufficient. If I were a film or romance novel character, I’d be glad to go home to the cat and the dog but there would be a lurking loneliness – I’d sigh to myself over my dinner for one and think longingly of the day when I might share this with a certain special someone. Then a crazy random happenstance would collide me with a handsome quirky stranger and we’d be off.
But I’m not a fictional character. I could continue quite happily as I am for a long, long time; my only serious motivator to find a partner is that I don’t want to be very old and alone. You need someone to drive you to doctors’ appointments and to remind you which drugs you’re supposed to take when. You need someone who’s willing to be the last face you see before you die. And really it should be a face you’ve had in your life for a number of years already.
So. I hope to marry at least a decade before I die.
According to the study, the scrutiny seems to cool down after 35, so if anyone who pities or judges me could maintain for just 2 more years the same covert ostracization you’ve managed so far, that’d be swell!