Quotable Quotes #1

Today we feature a very special guest columnist.  So special that he doesn't even know he's being featured. :)

I came across an article online with the delicate title "5 Reasons Being Single Sucks Even More Than You Thought" by Dan Seitz.  Mr. Seitz has an edgier tone than is usually used on this blog (Buddy would call him "an angry elf"), but one passage made me laugh out loud (or LOL, as the kids say).  I share it with you now:

"Time spent single is a lot like time spent in the bathroom. It's the most natural thing in the world, until you're there just a moment too long. But once you hit that point, there's no turning back. People start to wonder what's wrong with you. Gross images start popping into their heads. The next time they see you, you might smell a little funny to them. But hey, look on the bright side, at least nothing's actually wrong with you, right?"

For more of Mr. Seitz's rants, check out his article here.

 

 

See you next Monday!

 

 

 

 

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Spinsters in Television: Sex and the City

Today we present the first in a series of featured entries entitled "Spinsters in the Media:  Who Gets It Right?"


Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate.  Take, for example, a recent episode of 30 Rock.  Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) arrives at work one day, announcing to her coworkers that she is "giving up" the search for Mr. Right.  To that end, she wears her hair pinned up haphazardly in a "chip clip," she sports a straight-from-the-'80s fanny pack, and she has adopted a cat and named it "Emily Dickinson."   


Okay, full disclosure:  I do have a cat.  Actually, two cats.  And, yes, they are named after literary personas.  But I'm an English teacher; what else would you expect?  As far as Liz's unique accessories go, I know many fabulous single women who would never be caught wearing either.   


Therefore, it is refreshing to encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth.  Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone.  Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind.  Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton.  And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood.  But I can relate.






Today's example comes to us from the HBO series Sex and the City. 


For the most part, the lives of the four female leads in this television series have about as much in common with my life as a piece of Juicy Fruit has with an aardvark.  In other words, not much.  I've never spent a month's salary on a pair of shoes, and my clubbing days have been over since....well, my clubbing days never existed.  My girlfriends and I definitely get together and discuss men, but the conversation never takes place over Cosmos and features a much wider range of topics than just our love lives.   


However, there have been moments in the show that speak to me.  (By the way, they speak to me through the careful censors of TBS.  Couldn't handle the undiluted language and content of the series in its original form.)  When Miranda struggles through her mother's funeral in part because it's one more of life's blows she has to handle alone.  When Carrie stops in the middle of her fabulous life and confesses, "I'm lonely.  I am.  The loneliness is palpable."


And when Miranda is mistaken for a lesbian.  Okay, now that has never happened to me.  But Miranda's reaction to it has.


Here's the situation:  At a baseball game, one of Miranda's colleagues from the law firm asks to set her up with someone.  The someone, it turns out, is a woman.  Miranda sets the record straight but enjoys the game and is on her way to making a new friend.  Then her senior partner steps in and invites what he assumes is a couple to a dinner party.  This time, determined to make partner at the firm, Miranda doesn't set the record straight and accepts the invitation.

As she explains to Carrie later, "They seem so relieved to have finally figured me out."  No longer a mystery woman (is she married?  dating?  divorced?  widowed?  what's her story??), Miranda discovers her colleagues find it much easier to relate to her.  She finally belongs in their coupled-off world.


I, too, have felt that my acquaintances sometimes struggle to place me in a category.  I don't seem to have kids, though I can quote Despicable Me with the best of them.  (Credit my cool nephews for keeping me in touch with the younger set.)  I'm certainly old enough to have a husband and children, yet I never talk about them.  Am I divorced? dating? widowed? married?  What is my story??


Like Miranda, I don't know the solution (she eventually confesses all to her senior partner and returns to being a mystery woman).  I vacillate between helping the world out (dropping tidbits of information about cooking for one, living alone, someday when I get married, etc.) and feeling that it's none of their business or that they would have figured it out if they were really interested.


Maybe that's not fair.  How could they know?  And I appreciate that most of my acquaintances aren't rude enough to come right out and ask me.  That leads to an even more uncomfortable conversation.

Person:  "Are you married?"  (expecting to hear "yes" which then leads to a myriad of other questions:  "What does your husband do?"  "How long have you been married?"  "How did you meet?"  "Do you have children?" etc., etc.)


Me:  "No."


uncomfortable silence

Such a conversation-killer!  Sometimes I'm tempted, like Miranda, to fabricate a more interesting story:  "My husband?  Well, it's rather hard to describe exactly what he does for a living.  Somewhat because it's a rather complex job but also because there are certain forces deeply embedded in our government that don't want that information to reach the general public.  Let's just say, have you seen The Bourne Identity?"


I have no problem confessing the truth.  I'm not ashamed of the truth.  The lie would just keep the conversation going.  (That in itself is probably not a great reason to get married--just to keep conversations going.)

Like Miranda, I sometimes struggle with the fact that the external world would find me easier to accept if I would just get married already and fit in with everyone else.  (Also in itself not a great reason to get married.)  But for the time being, I'll play the mystery woman. 

And leave the world to figure me out.



And you, dear readers?  What Sex and the City moments do you relate to, as a single present or a single past?  Share them in the comments section below.


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The Power of Two

Having recently survived a bout with food poisoning (recently, as in yesterday), I am reminded once again of something I'm missing out on from not yet being married.  I find myself longing for one of the less glamorous aspects of being happily settled down:  having someone in your life legally obligated to wake up at 2:00 in the morning and reassure you that you're not going to die (probably) from eating raw cookie dough.

Sometimes one of the hardest things about being single is . . . being single.  Being on my own.  Facing the world alone.  Handling life's inconveniences and mild tragedies by myself.  Stepping carefully (and barefoot) around broken glass to retrieve the vacuum cleaner myself, rather than holler for assistance.  Getting out of bed myself (cell phone in hand) to investigate strange noises in the middle of the night. 

And calculating my chances of survival against the forces of probable salmonella.

Such moments were made for in-sickness-and-in-health partnerships.  Lacking one of those, I have to turn to my next closest option:  Mom.  She took my 6:00 a.m. phone call (I decided to let her sleep in a bit) and gave me the reassurance I was needing.  Besides being a constant source of good advice, Mom provided that human contact I needed.

I think that's why God gave us two of a lot of things.  Two arms, two legs, two feet.  A pair of hands, a set of matching fingers, a couple of ears.  Even two nostrils.  I think His plan was to give us a constant, a means of comparing, a standard by which to judge.  Got a weird bump on your thumb you've never noticed?  It could freak you out a little until you notice that you have the exact same bump on your other thumb.

And a for-better-or-for-worse partner can serve the same purpose.  "Are you worried about that weird noise downstairs?"  "No.  Go back to sleep."  "Does the cat look like it's walking funny?"  "Maybe.  If he's still doing it tomorrow, we'll call the vet."  Sometimes a second opinion is all you need to let something go or to stop worrying.

So until Mr./Ms. Right comes along, singletons have to find their own constant, their own power of two.  Other single friends are awesome for this!  We form our own partnerships for taking the car to the repair shop, getting a second opinion on that weird basement smell that might be a natural gas leak, driving each other to and from the doctor's office or hospital.

In a sweet example from Grey's Anatomy, Cristina and Meredith formed one such "power of two" partnership.  They called it being each other's "person," after Cristina designated Meredith as her emergency contact person on a medical form.  (Watch the scene here.) 

But if you're fresh out of "dark and twisty" medical interns, you may be looking for someone with which to form a "power of two."

May I suggest Mom?






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