Old Maid

When you have six nieces and nephews, five of whom are under the age of six, you play a lot of games.  Star Wars Lego secret agents versus mutant Transformer cowboys, sure.  But also the classics, like the card game "Old Maid."

Have you taken a look at that game lately?  Let me refresh your memory.  The instructions read, "With this game kids can make-believe they are firemen, doctors, baseball players and much more!"  As cards are exchanged between the players, they attempt to match identical cards to create sets.  "The game continues," the instructions explain, "until all sets have been matched.  The player who is left with the OLD MAID card loses the game--and becomes THE OLD MAID!"  

This game confuses me.  What do professions have to do with being an "old maid"?  Aren't we sending the message that if you become an "old maid," you didn't work hard enough?  And can't someone be a firefighter, a doctor, a baseball player, and still be single?  Or does the single status outweigh all other accomplishments?

And, at the end of the game, when all the professions have been matched up, it's apparently not enough that the player loses; they also have to be punished.  And what is their punishment?  Becoming the Old Maid:

  

(So THIS is the look I'm supposed to be going for!  I really must start wearing hats.)

Perhaps the oldest of the stereotypes of those-who-didn't-get-married-quite-within-society's-timeline, the term "old maid" has thankfully fallen out of favor in recent years.  So has "spinster."  At least, when I hear them, it's mostly being used in a self-deprecating way by a Still Single herself.

The current popular stereotype of single women is the "crazy cat lady."  Picture a woman surrounded by a horde of cats, stacks of books, and no social life to speak of.  Featured on an episode of Hoarders, perhaps.  

I can brush off "old maid" (because I'm not "old" yet nor a cleaning lady) and "spinster" (because I'm not in a Dickens novel), but "crazy cat lady" hits a little too close to home.  Yes, I'm single.  Yes, I have two cats.  Yes, as an English teacher and avid reader, I have stacks and stacks of books.  Am I, therefore, by definition, a "crazy cat lady"?

Last April, when I was moving across town into my new house, my older brother told a colleague about helping me haul all my belongings.  His co-worker said, "How much stuff can she have?  She's single, right?"  Greg responded, "Yes, she mainly has a lot of books.  And a couple of cats."  Then he rushed to add, "But that's just a stereotype!"  :)

I told Greg it's actually true.  Once you hit 30 and are still unmarried, the DMV hands you a Crazy Cat Lady Starter Kit:  a cardboard box with a kitten and a book of Emily Dickinson poems.

Like many stereotypes, there probably is a kernel of truth to the "crazy cat lady," but I'm guessing it has more to do with the horde of cats than the lack of husband.  Being single does not make you crazy.  Owning a cat (or two) does not make you crazy.  Owning 40 cats would make any person crazy, single or not.


(Check out the crazy eyes on this one.  You can probably smell the litter boxes from the street.)

There are more harmful stereotypes, however.   Assumptions that people don't even realize they are making about singles.  And, therefore, they will never question them.  

You've seen the "What Society Thinks I Do" memes about various professions:  teachers, scientists, musicians, stay-at-home moms, etc.  If there were a meme for What Society Thinks Singles Do, it would include:

---sobbing into a carton of ice cream

---turning away a line of potential suitors (we're too picky, you see)

---sitting at home, twiddling our thumbs, waiting for one of our married friends to ask us to babysit

---rolling in a pile of money (aren't all singles rich?)

---jetting off to a weekend of skiing or surfing (aren't all singles rich with tons of free time?)

---and, yes, feeding our 47 cats.

The reality of the single life is much less dramatic.  Much more mundane.  Often cat-free and usually sane.  Just like everyone else's.

But, seriously, I should start wearing hats.

Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride

Have you heard this expression before? 

Actually, I've always heard it stated as more of a math problem/curse.  "Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride."  

Or...       (Bridesmaid x 3) = Lifetime of Loneliness    Be sure to show your work.


Not too concerned about mathematical curses (though, to an English major, that phrase seems redundant), I willingly served as a bridesmaid for an aunt, my "big" sister-in-law, my best friend from high school, and my college roommate.

Should I have refused two of those bridesmaiding gigs?  Have I condemned myself to the single life?

Curses aside, what does it say about our society that we treat bridesmaids as "also-rans"?  Was this a contest to see who could marry first, and these girls just didn't cut it?  On the Olympic podium of marriage, did the bridesmaids have to settle for silver and gold in the form of questionable dresses and matching rhinestone jewelry?

Hollywood seems to think so.  Practically every movie that features bridesmaids portrays them as jealous, back-stabbing girls who are out to ruin the wedding, take down fellow bridesmaids, steal the groom or steal the bride's thunder.  My Best Friend's Wedding.  Bridesmaids.  27 Dresses.  

     

  

Poor Katherine Heigl.  It's too bad she formed twenty-seven close friendships.  If only she'd had the foresight to cut herself off at two, she just might have gotten herself a man.

"Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride."  Who comes up with this stuff??

Well... Listerine.

Yep, in 1925, the mouthwash manufacturer was looking for a new way to advertise its product and decided to focus in on the devastating effects of halitosis (bad breath, in case you didn't know).  Here's the ad:

The copy reads, 

"Edna's case was really a pathetic one.  Like every woman, her primary ambition was to marry.  Most of the girls of her set were married--or about to be.  Yet not one possessed more grace or loveliness than she.

"And as her birthdays crept gradually toward that tragic thirty-mark, marriage seemed farther from her life than ever.

"She was often a bridesmaid but never a bride.

"That's the insidious thing about halitosis (unpleasant breath).  You, yourself, rarely know when you have it.  And even your closest friends won't tell you."

I must say, I feel much better.  It turns out I haven't been cursed by bridal math; instead, I just might have completely inconsiderate friends who haven't told me that my horrid breath is repelling men left and right, in spite of my grace and loveliness.  Well, okay, then.  

Maybe it's because it has never been my "primary ambition to marry," but I was delighted to be asked to stand up with those four women on one of the biggest moments of their lives.  My "ambition" was to celebrate the day with them and their loved ones and maybe dance the Funky Chicken.  I'm glad I did, in spite of the risk I took of being cursed.

And if it turns out the curse is real, at least there is a cure.  According to superstition, I can break the curse by going on to be a bridesmaid for a total of seven times.  That's right, brides-to-be!  That means I'm available for three more bridesmaiding gigs.  I can even provide my own matching rhinestone jewelry.

But first I think I'll try a breath mint.