Old Maid Is Just A Card Game

A word about being single: Relative to stormy relationships, being single is fantastic. You get to do what you want, when you want, with whomever you want to do it with. You might not have the clouds bursting into rose petals around you, but you also avoid relationship-related pits of anxiety, uncertainty, and hurt feelings which can sometimes happen. Instead of the highs and lows, you have a more even-keel existence.

Feeling a little anxiety about being single, however, is sometimes unavoidable. For example, when a critical mass of your friends suddenly become engaged and/or married and you find your totally unattached self out at an event admiring everyone else's rings, it can be somewhat destabilizing. Don't get me wrong, I could not be more happy for my friends. Their happiness makes me happy; they're wonderful, they have wonderful men in their lives, and that's thrilling and exciting. But, to be perfectly frank, all those uniquely cut diamonds do make a girl just a tad self-conscious about her current lack of prospects. Not for marriage - just for men that she might be interested in.

This feeling is added to by comments from the peanut gallery, i.e. your family. Another example will be illustrative. The other day, I was talking with my father and sharing with him my excitement over a trip I am planning to Tanzania. The trip will include 11 days out on safari in 5-star camps and lodges, taking puddle-jumper planes in between camps, seeing lions, giraffes, elephants, and tons of other animals up close, and then a few days on the beach in Zanzibar. The trip is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I'm so excited about it.

My Dad asked me who I was going with and I told him it was one of my girlfriends who is a few years old than me. My father responded, "Oh, she doesn't have a boyfriend either?" I said, "Either?" I thought we were talking about my trip to Africa; I didn't realize were talking about my relationship status. That conversation was a few days ago, but it keeps coming back to me. It reminded me of a conversation I had with him while I was planning my trip to India last year. He said something to the effect of: You say you want a relationship, but you're not going to get it this way. Why don't you wait to go on these big trips until you have a boyfriend? At that time, we got in to a huge fight. Now that I'm more mature a year later, I just let it wash off of me, for the most part.

I know I'm single. I get it. I don't need comments implying that I'm doing something wrong just because I'm not neatly packaged away into a nugget of nuclear bliss. And let's just remember that I was in fact dating someone until 2 1/2 months ago. It's not like I sit up on a shelf twiddling my thumbs gathering dust bunnies around me. What is the point of criticizing me for doing something that I love (traveling)? If I was in a relationship and making the choice to travel on my own instead of nurturing the relationship - if I was really making a choice between (a) traveling and (b) relationship - then I could understand my father's comments. It's like he thinks I could make a worthwhile relationship materialize out of thin air at the snap of my fingers if I would just focus on it and stop flitting around the globe. Instead of using my coveted 4 weeks of vacation to do something fun and self-sustaining, I should apparently be directing all of my spare energy into hunting for men. Not.

The choice he imagines is not before me. I am not in a relationship. Going on a kick-ass trip to Africa is not going to limit my chances of getting into a relationship with someone eventually. Two weeks away from the New York dating scene is not going to destroy my relationship chances for life. Frankly, the way dating in New York can be sometimes, I might just have better luck bumping in to someone amazing outside of Manhattan.

The choice before me now is whether to (a) enjoy my life to the fullest or (b) feel sorry for myself. I like to enjoy my life, and I don't really have any reason to feel sorry for myself, so for many reasons, I choose option "A." All I can control is me, so I'm taking my single self to Africa. Because I want to, because I can, and because there's no one around to stop me.

The thing that really pisses me off about this is that there's no way my father (and probably most people) would have a similar view if I was a man. My brother Frey, who is one year younger than me, has a demanding job, just like me, and just like me spends his free time traveling. I don't believe my father has once said to Frey that he should focus more on settling down and less on enjoying himself. It is a total double standard based on this image of women turning into old maids if they're not married by the age of 30, and men becoming ever more sexy in their bachelorhood.

Well, fuck that. I passed my 30th birthday and my taxi did not turn into a pumpkin, and I don't think it's going to anytime soon, what with all the blessed cabs there are in Manhattan. Of course I could kiss a boy if I wanted to - most women could. But, I'm on a boy moratorium until I find something worthy of more than a roll in the shadows of a club. For now, I'm going to continue as I am: Yoga and meeting up with friends tonight, brunch, shopping, and going out tomorrow night, and Sunday to relax, run and enjoy the Park. It's not a bad life. It's actually quiet wonderful. It would be nice if the peanut gallery realized that.