I know. Technically, it’s fake news. But it feels real, and sometimes that matters more than the truth.
When I was younger, I imagined I’d be married with children by twenty-seven. I don’t know why twenty-seven, but I was convinced I’d be quick to figure out my own life so I could get to work creating someone else’s. When twenty-seven came and went, I didn’t dwell, assuming it was still a possibility right around the corner.
There was a brief window where, at every bridal or baby shower I attended, an older woman would point to me and yell, “You’re next!” as if I were waiting in line for a pizza I ordered ten minutes prior.
As my thirties rolled by and the showers continued, the older ladies began quietly nudging, “Why aren’t you married?” Usually it was meant as a compliment—they couldn’t believe no one had scooped me up. Other times it felt a little more critical—an implication I had something fundamentally wrong with me—either because I didn’t want to be married or because no one was asking.
Whatever the insinuation, I knew their intentions were good: They wanted me to be happy, and apparently a lot of women equate happiness with having a husband; maybe they read that Newsweek article published in 1986 claiming that for women over forty it’s “easier to be killed by a terrorist” than to find one. Sleepless in Seattle referenced that article (twice) before Newsweek printed a retraction two decades later.
It’s kind of funny when you think about it: The veracity of the story was completely inconsequential. In a world pervasive with alternative facts, it planted a seed of fear in the collective crop of single women, and we’ve been slowly undoing the damage ever since.
Here’s the good news: Today, it seems more acceptable than ever to be a single person in your thirties, forties—any age, really. Gone are the days of having only two life options (marry by a certain point or be labeled a spinster for life). Being on your own no longer classifies you as a weirdo—not that I’m not a weirdo; it’s just not because I’m unmarried at thirty-eight. I am strange for a multitude of other reasons, and we’ll get to all of them eventually. The point is people get married later. They have kids later. Some don’t marry at all because they find ways to lead rewarding, fulfilling lives without needing another person to share or validate it.
Here’s the bad news (for me, still good news for you): Despite more people being single later in life, I remain the same person I’ve always been, i.e., an introverted, awkward person, wildly uncomfortable in the initial stages of getting to know someone, especially in the dating arena—so much so it’s hard to put myself through it. Not to mention, I’m an old soul trapped in the modern era. I’m not cut out for online dating, apps like Tinder, or texting as a primary means of communication. Moreover, I’m staunchly against enlisting Netflix as a reluctant accomplice in the pursuit of hooking up. Netflix didn’t ask for that. Neither did I for that matter, but here we are.
So why is this good news (again, for you)? Because modern technology isn’t going away any time soon, and when I’m trapped miles outside my indigenous comfort zone (which appears to be my plight for the foreseeable future) hilarious stories emerge.
Take, for example, my first attempt at online mingling a few years ago. After ending a serious relationship, my mom told me I should check out Meetups. It was a low point for me when my sixty-year-old mother (who had just recently learned to text message) had to explain to me what Meetups were, but we’ll save that sad narrative for another day.
It wasn’t just my mom suggesting Meetups though. Several friends told me about the site, advising it was a low-pressure way to meet people with similar interests (and not necessarily a dating resource), so I decided to try it. When I logged on and the very first suggestion for me was “Thick Women 35+ and the Men Who Love Them,” I immediately closed my laptop and cried a little. I don’t know what rattled me most: the shock of how weirdly specific the group was, the fact that it was the first suggestion made for me, or the reality that I might qualify to join, but I was disheartened to say the least; it didn’t feel like the empowering, friend-making forum my loved ones touted.
I remember being devastated…for about five minutes, but then it quickly became funny. I’ve found the same to be true of just about every weird, awkward, embarrassing moment I’ve ever experienced—and there have been a lot of them. A lot. That’s where this blog comes in.
Let Me Tell You What This Blog Is Not
This blog is not a play-by-play of my dating life recounted in real time. Dating is hard enough without that kind of pressure. It’s one thing to write crash-and-burn stories featuring people I’ll never see again; it’s quite another to broadcast tales involving someone I’m currently interested in (and possibly trying to impress). If there’s a method guaranteed to solidify my single status for life, that’d probably be it: “You want to know how I feel about you? Just read about it Tuesday with the rest of the world.” That sounds like a horrific idea. Worst idea ever. I’m not doing it.
Let Me Tell You What This Blog Is
More than anything, it’s meant to be entertaining—funny stories, nostalgic tales, travel adventures, scholarly criticism of Hallmark movies (side note: sarcasm is my first language), and reactions to current events (which probably only amounts to Bachelor episode recaps).
I don’t know for sure what it will be and I honestly have no idea what I’m doing, but unlike most situations in my life, I’ve decided not to let that prevent me from doing it.
I’ve subjected my friends to humorous anecdotes for years, and they’ve begged me for a long time to post them somewhere. This is me finally caving. I figure my mom’s already been telling people I have a blog (because a Word document with short stories is practically the same thing), so now when she says it, it will actually be true.
Who Is This Blog For?
Almost everyone. People who like funny stories. People who like uplifting things. Anyone in the thick of it—the dating muck—wondering how they’re going to survive. Happily married couples who want to remind themselves how lucky they are that they don’t have to navigate singlehood in the digital age. People who subsist on hope and cheer for underdogs.
Who Should Avoid This Blog?
People who dislike funny things. People fundamentally against sarcasm.
So…What’s the Point?
Life takes us in directions we might not expect, often leading us to surprising places we most need to be (like here, on a blog). According to my timetable, I should have been married a decade ago. Here’s the problem with that master plan: Life’s not a deli counter. You don’t get to take a number and be waited on next—not unless you’re willing to accept whatever’s in stock. Sometimes, you have to suppress your natural instinct to assert, I was here first or It’s my turn, because that’s just not how life works—not a happy life, not a fulfilling one, at least.
Where Does That Leave Me (And Us)?
At the beginning. The beginning of a new, unconventional, re-imagined life plan. A plan in which I continually—uncomfortably—put myself out there, hope for great things, make the best of what isn’t, and keep us all laughing in the meantime.
Pull up a chair. It’s about to get weird.