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.

Quotable Quotes #3

From Anne of Green Gables:

ANNE: I've become too practical for romance. Like Marilla, I shall probably end up an old maid. Miss Barry, I didn't mean that.

AUNT JOSEPHINE: It isn't all bad. A married woman could never be as cantankerous as I am free to be. But it's not a circumstance I'd recommend for you. Make a little room in your plans again for romance, Anne-girl. All the degrees and scholarships in the world can't make up for the lack of it.



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Spinsters in Televison: The Bachelor/Bachelorette Series

Today we present the third 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. Upon occasion, however, we 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 television series The Bachelor and its sister series (or is that a bit incestuous?) The Bachelorette.


I'm not really a fan of so-called "Reality TV." A few shows in that category--The Amazing Race, Project Runway, and, recently, The Voice--have intrigued me with their talented contestants or entertaining hosts. But most of the bug-eating, rose-giving, back-stabbing, on-camera-confessing antics seem to me pretty far removed from both entertainment and reality.


And thanks to the media blitz, you don't have to even watch these shows to know what's going on. This season of The Bachelorette has especially been fodder for check-out aisle headlines.  Apparently, putting 25 strangers in the same house together, challenging them to duke it out for the affections of one person, and capturing it all on camera for the world to see doesn't bring out the best in people.


So you may find it surprising that I find a kernel of singlehood truth in these shows.  Well, sometimes even "Reality TV" goes off script. 


At the end of one season of The Bachelorette, contestant Jen Schefft, after carefully narrowing down her pool of bachelors, actually turned down both finalists and walked away single.


Time magazine columnist Anita Hamilton described the fan outrage that followed this unconventional decision and also what she found refreshing about the situation:

[W]atching Jen apologetically admit that none of the men on the show were right for her was strangely liberating. She reminded me that as much as the legions of single women like me want to find a mate, you can't force it. In a way, Jen did us a favor by demonstrating that single gals aren't all a bunch of Bridget Joneses, desperate for love. By showing us that Mr. Wrongs are a dime a dozen, reality TV for once felt real.

Hamilton went on to analyze the angry reaction to Bachelorette Jen's decision:

[T]here's a whole industry devoted to exploiting the anxiety of single women. We are constantly deluged with messages that we really should get it together and find a man--and the sooner, the better. Why else would so many angry viewers be predicting that Jen will wind up an old maid? How else to explain the 25 bridal magazines at my local bookstore, including one that boasts "over 900 wedding gowns" on its cover and another that is 810 pages long? . . .

We can't blame books, magazines and movies for all the pressure, though. It's our fault too for buying into the women's-magazine cycle of building up our self-esteem and then exploiting our insecurities with endless tips on dieting, flirting and impressing a man in bed. (If we're so fabulous, why do we need so much fixing up?) It's an addictive game as well. When meeting up with friends, the question Are you dating anyone? comes up too soon. Even on girls' nights out, we usually talk about boys.

The insidious part is the sense of desperation. Shopping is fun, but last-minute shopping is a recipe for regret. In Be Honest--You're Not That into Him Either, which serves as a comeback to the obnoxious best seller, author Ian Kerner advises women to step off the dating StairMaster and stop hooking up with "meantimers" just so we feel as though we're in the game. Author Sasha Cagen has even coined the term quirkyalone (in her book of the same name) for a person who "prefers to be alone rather than date for the sake of being in a couple." Better to be quirkyalone than unhappy together.

(Read Anita Hamilton's entire essay, "The Bachelorette Who Set Us Free," here.)

As a fellow singleton, I appreciate Jen's willingness to acknowledge the limitations of televised match-making.  For her courage to choose to be "quirkyalone," I offer her this rose and a hearty "You go, girl!"






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To Buy or Not to Buy?

I must be one of the few 36-year-old women in America who doesn't own a picnic basket. Make no mistake:  this is not because I am picnic-adverse. This is because I am unmarried.


Think about it: how do most American households become blessed with a picnic basket?  It's a classic wedding present.  Newly-married couples receive them from Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Mimsey along with a few handwritten family recipes.  It's a treasured wedding tradition.

It's also highly practical, I have discovered.  Before every church potluck, family gathering or holiday party, I find myself hunting through my stash of boxes for the right-sized container to transport my famous Chocolate-and-Heath-Bar Cheesecake.  All the while, I'm muttering, "I swear I'm going to buy a picnic basket next week."

The fact that I haven't yet purchased a picnic basket is mainly due to procrastination (along with a tendency to forget about the need for it as soon as the potluck, gathering or party is over).  However, there are some items, usually purchased or received by couples, that can place Still Singles in a bit more of a quandary.

Here's the dilemma:  do Still Singles go ahead and buy all those typically couple things, or not?

Sure, a picnic basket is not that much of an emotional investment, but some singles really have difficulty in deciding to buy, say, a house on their own.  For some, they worry about tying themselves down, and for others, they feel as though it would be "giving up" to go ahead and buy such things alone.

For me, the answer has been varied.  Here's the tally as it stands thus far:


YES:

• a queen-sized bed--to upgrade from what my friend Bobbi calls "the virginal single bed."  Let me say, it took NO time at all for me to get used to all that space.  Also, an excuse to buy all new sheets and bedding.  Love it!

• a set of nice dishes--not china, but not mismatched hand-me-downs either. Purchased in order to host my first family Thanksgiving in my first little rental house.  They are pretty girly (pink flowers!), but I figured that was just fine for now.

NO:

• a house--but I'm definitely getting the urge more, watching HGTV and dreaming of painting my walls some color other than what I believe Dutch Boy calls "Rental Apartment Off-White."  Still, a house has always seemed like such a BIG purchase and one that I'm not sure I'm ready to make on my own.  Other singles have, and I applaud them for it.

• a full-sized Christmas tree--definitely an emotional one for me.  That just feels so much like a buying-our-first-Christmas-tree-together kind of thing.  I don't want to miss out on that one.  So I stick with my little four-foot tree.  Besides, the story of how I bought that tree is priceless and always makes me laugh when I think of it.  (Remind me to tell you that one sometime.)

• vacations--probably a safety issue just as much, but I do have a few special places in mind for trips with my husband.  Some are revisits---places I love that I'd love to show him---and others we can explore together for the first time. 

Other thoughts, my fellow singletons?  What purchases have you struggled with or embraced fully?

As for me, I'll be adding a picnic basket in the YES column soon. 

If I don't forget again.



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Quotable Quotes #2

A little gem I found as I was reading through a stack of old Reader's Digests:

Elayne Boosler:

"I've never been married, but I tell people I'm divorced so they won't think something's wrong with me."

--quoted in Reader's Digest, September 2005

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Sometimes a Man is Just a Man

One of the most frustrating and embarrassing side effects of being a Still Single is that I can't even mention a guy in an anecdote without my family or friends pouncing upon the idea of him as a potential mate.

While I'm relating a funny incident at church or a maddening issue at work, my friends or family members will suddenly turn the focus of the entire conversation to my lack of a love life.  I could be telling a story about shopping with a co-worker at Walmart and returning to my car only to discover that a homeless man had broken into it and was currently sleeping in the backseat and who, upon arrival of a police officer, insisted that this was really his car and we were the ones trying to break into it and claimed the window was broken because "the aliens like it that way" and that it had been that way for years, in spite of the fresh glass shards on the driver's seat, which, he said, were diamonds.  And my loved one's response would be, "So. . .was the police officer cute?"

Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!

The really embarrassing thing is when this conversation takes place where a third party could overhear it.  I'm terrified that the third party will think that I'm as desperate to get married as my loved ones are desperate to get me married off.  Can't a guy just be a guy?  Can't I have a guy friend, acquaintance, co-worker?   I don't see every male who walks the planet as a possible husband; why do they?

I feel as though I should start every story with the guy's bio so they can see why he's not a potential soul mate:

"This guy at church--43, married, two kids--was telling me that he thought it might snow again this weekend."

"Joe who fixes my car--mid-70s, nice guy but a chain-smoker--says I'll need new tires before next winter."

"My new neighbor--late-20s, divorced, one son, smoker, drinker--came over the other night around 10:30 to borrow a plunger."  (Sadly, that last one is not hypothetical.)

What exactly in my mention of these random men in my life makes my loved ones sit up and think, "Ding-ding-ding!  Husband Material!"?

I find it all so embarrassing because it seems that my friends' and family's only criteria for a guy for me is that he's 1) Male and 2) Breathing.  Really, that's all they know about the guy who's popped up in a story I'm telling. 

Shouldn't I be a bit pickier than that?

Shouldn't I have higher standards for the man I'm going to marry?  Didn't married people look for more in a potential spouse when they got married?  (Gracious, I hope so!)

The attitude seems to be that I'm like a carton of milk that's way past its Best-Used-By date.  Or that I'm the last kid to be picked for elementary PE softball teams, and I should just be grateful to be picked by somebody.

But here's the thing:  I don't have to play softball.  That's one of the truly lovely things about being an adult:  no longer am I forced to participate in team sports for its character-building benefits or to uncover my (deeply) hidden athletic potential.

I don't have to take whoever will have me.  I can wait until a guy comes along who would make a really great teammate.  A guy whose selection means something.

I am choosing to be patient, and my friends and family will just have to be patient, too.  And someday there will be a guy who doesn't just pop up in my stories but has a starring role.




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Friendly Fire

Today we turn over the keyboard to a guest author.  In an article first published on MSN.com, Emmy-nominated television writer Michael Kramer addresses an issue commonly faced by singletons:  dealing with our well-intentioned loved ones who just want to help. . . by figuring out what's wrong with us and fixing it.  


What’s so bad about being single?
By Michael Kramer


“You know what your problem is?”

Who doesn’t love a conversation that starts like that?  But if you’re over 35 and single, people somehow think it’s an open invitation to diagnose why you’re still single.  “You don’t have room in your life for a woman.”  “You’re too picky.”  “You’re not picky enough.” (Sadly, I’ve dated a few women who have elicited that response from my friends.)  The very term “singles” practically sounds like a disease (oh, wait, that’s “shingles”), and for those diagnosing us, being single seems to be our defining characteristic.

As the last of my peer group to remain single, I’ve noticed that friends, colleagues, family members, even shop owners, are quick to diagnose me.  I bought new eyeglasses recently and the salesman asked my female friend whether we were a couple.

“No, we’re just friends,” she said.

“Good,” he said, “because based on how long it takes him to decide on a pair of glasses, if you’re waiting for a proposal, you’re gonna wait forever.”  As if choosing eyewear were somehow related to choosing a spouse.

Is there something wrong with being single?
But comments like these, repeated over and over through the years, made me start to doubt myself.  Maybe something was wrong with me.  Maybe I did have the dreaded singles disease.  After all, people never give flattering reasons for why you’re still single.  The diagnosis is never, “You’re too good-looking” or “If only you were less smart.”  It’s always something negative.  “You don’t know what you want in a woman.”  “You’re looking for a woman who doesn’t exist.”  If everybody’s saying these things, after a while you start thinking maybe they’re right.

It got to the point where even I started to wonder why I was still single.  So I decided to put my fate in the hands of my happily married friends, Andy and Lisa.  (Names have been changed to protect the guilty.)  I agreed to let them set me up.

Andy and Lisa wanted to double date, so the four of us went to dinner.  It turns out that the woman they set me up with had started a new job that day, and she joked — three times, so I sensed it was more than a joke — that she’s just not cut out for work, and she really just wants to marry a rich guy.  That’s a nice thing to hear on a first date, because that’s exactly what guys are looking for in a woman.  It’s the equivalent of a man telling a first date that he’s considering quitting his job to devote more time to chewing tobacco.

Then poker came up in conversation, and my date said she loves to gamble, but she’s having a bad year.  “How so?” I asked.  She said she’s down $19,000.  Nineteen.  Thousand.  Dollars!  I thought, Wow, so you don’t want to work AND you’ve got a gambling problem?  You’re quite the catch.

After the date, Andy pulled me aside and excitedly asked, “So… what do you think?”  Not wanting to be insulting, I said I thought she was nice, but not quite my type.  To which Andy replied, “You know what your problem is?  You don’t want to be happy.”

Now, wait a minute!  I may not know myself perfectly, but I do know that an unambitious gambler is not my road to happiness.  And that’s when I came to my senses and realized that the so-called “experts” who were diagnosing me didn’t know any more than I did.  Being single isn’t a disease, yet so many married people think they’re Jonas Salk with the miracle cure.  But with over 50 percent of marriages ending in divorce, maybe single people should be diagnosing married people.

What single people need to remember
The fact is, we all go through life on our own timetable.  I know many people who found their true love a little later in life.  It wasn’t because they were crazy or afraid to commit or told too many corny jokes on dates or any of that stuff.  It was because they found their true love a little later in life.

I have a well-meaning cousin who, upon hearing I wasn’t dating anyone, sighed and said, “There’s gotta be somebody out there for you.”  She used the exact same tone that Dr. Frankenstein would have used if he were lamenting that his monster was still single.  I told her, “It’s not like I’ve never been loved!”  But then I realized that I didn’t need to get defensive.  I mean, even Frankenstein’s monster found his soul mate, and I’m not sure he even had a soul.  I have to believe I’m a better catch than he is.  Just imagine what people must have said about him before he found his lovely bride.  But did he listen?  No.  Ol’ Frankie’s monster just kept trudging along, with the bolts in his neck and his flat head held high.  And until the rest of us find our soul mate, so should we.

Michael Kramer is an Emmy-nominated television writer living in Los Angeles.  He is single, looking and, he likes to think, "well-adjusted."


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