The Single Truth

I’m afraid the blog’s all gone a bit Carrie Bradshaw today, because lately, with increasing frequency, all the new people I meet tend to ask me the same thing. The burning question is:

 ‘Why don’t you have a boyfriend?’

My issues with it are threefold:

Firstly, it’s quite a personal question. I suppose I can understand the curiosity - I’m entering my mid thirties, attractive in my own unique way, have never married and haven’t been in a serious or long-lasting relationship for years. But the way I see it, if they don’t know me well enough to already know the answer, then it’s probably none of their business. I don’t go around asking random people why they are with their partner, or why they got married, adding subtext suggesting that they shouldn’t be. I also wonder whether single men my age are regularly subjected to the same enquiry, or if it’s still more socially acceptable for them to choose not to have a girlfriend, or as many girlfriends as they want, with either option only increasing their eligible bachelor status.

The prying isn’t as annoying as the second issue, which is there’s always a hint of judgement in the tone, like it must be such a terrible hardship for me to endure day to day, or like I am surely a madwoman to attempt to face the harsh realities of the world alone. I sometimes even get the sense that the person’s trying to figure out what must be wrong with me to make me so repellent to all the men I must spend my time desperately trying to impress. The resulting assumptions can be anything from man-hating feminist, lesbian, free-spirited polygamist, or promiscuous commitment-phobe, right down to reclusive prude, religious devotee or bitter emotional wreck. None are correct.

The third problem is the one that bugs me most, and that’s the phrasing of the question. They don’t ask: ‘Are you looking for/Do you want a boyfriend?’ But: ‘Why don’t you have a boyfriend?’ It further implies that I should have one, and it’s somehow wrong or weird that I don’t. The language bugs me, but the sentiment probably makes me feel sorrier for them and their narrow outlook than they do for me and my obviously tragic spinsterly existence.

My honest answer is simple. I’m currently single because I haven’t been fortunate enough to stumble across that elusive and magical combination of compatibility, chemistry, and timing with anyone I’ve met recently.

To me, being single is not a choice in that I would prefer it over being in a loving, equal relationship with the right person, but it is absolutely a choice above settling for anything less. As in every other area of life, I’m just not motivated to put precious time and effort into something if my heart’s not in it.

But the right person is rare and difficult to find, so for the inevitable in between times, I’d much rather be alone than with the wrong one, or the convenient one, or the one that’ll do until something better comes along. I’ve learned that the superficial happiness gleaned from succumbing to such poor substitutes is always temporary, and far outweighed by the deep loss of self respect that accompanies it. That’s a far worse feeling to deal with than occasional loneliness.

When I offer this answer, people usually feel it necessary to advise me that I have to try harder, put myself out there, and not just hang around for the right one to come along. This insinuates that my lack of boyfriend somehow means I’m putting my life on hold, like I’ve locked myself in an ivory tower until my prince comes to rescue and revive me, which could not be more vomit-inducing or further from the truth. I don’t actively seek love because I don’t believe it can, or should be forced. I’ve found it prefers to jump out and surprise me in entirely serendipitous circumstances, and that’s the way I prefer it too.

I’m not holding out for some Disney happily-ever-after, I’m not waiting at all. I’m just an all-or-nothing type of person in life generally, and relationships are no exception. I don’t want an impossible fairytale, or at the other end of the scale, any kind of casual arrangement. I want something organic and real. And I certainly don’t want perfect, I just want perfect for me, which is an entirely different, flawed and much more attainable concept.

But then I’m told that my perfect match probably doesn’t exist, and being too fussy is the real reason I don’t have a boyfriend. But I’ve come pretty close to finding what I want before, I believe I will again, and I’m not in any hurry, so see no need to lower my standards any time soon.

It may come as a surprise, but I am actually fine on my own, and being single isn’t as terrible as people seem to think. It actually has a lot of advantages, and in many ways, I’m happier than I was even in my best relationships. I can be completely free and spontaneous, decide how I spend all of my time and money, and flirt with whomever I like, all without compromise. It’s also empowering - I have more friends and adventures than ever before, because it’s pushed me to try new things, travel to new places and meet new people, and I’ve gained all the strength and confidence that comes from doing those things alone. Maybe it’s easier for me because I was never the little girl that grew up dreaming of her white dress and wedding day, and have still yet to reach a point where settling down in the conventional sense appeals to me in the slightest, or maybe it would be easier for everyone if they weren’t conditioned to be so focused on achieving that goal.

But I’m never praised for my positivity, personal growth, ability to enjoy my own company and move forward despite not having constant support - instead I’m judged as sad or selfish. From my perspective, I see far too many couples who treat each other badly and stay together simply because they’re scared of being alone; or who don’t really love each other, but rather they love what the other person can do for them, or provide them with; or worst of all, are trying to change each other into something they’re not to fit in with their own wants and needs. That seems far sadder and more selfish to me.

I think a lot of people don’t understand singledom’s many benefits and liberties because they’ve never really tried it, or at least not for any longer than the miserable time it took to get over the break up that preceded it before attaching themselves to someone new.  I’d highly recommend that everyone spend some time alone as a character building exercise. It’s not always easy, it’s not always fun, and it takes effort to make it work – just like being in a relationship. Sometimes I see happy couples that seem meant to be, and get a little envious of what they have, and then being single upsets me - but when I see unhappy couples with their tedium, complications, dramas and betrayals, I become glad of it again, because I’d much rather be alone than stuck in any of those unions.

So that’s my truth, but it only provides half of the answer – the rest is surely up to the boys. I’ve debated this topic with some of my close male friends (I have several, as my tomboyish nature has often led me to be included as one of the lads, which probably accounts for another part of the answer!) Their verdict is that most men would be terrified of me or even feel emasculated by me because I’m too strong and independent.

I don’t believe ‘too’ is an acceptable prefix for either of those adjectives, which probably proves their point. But sadly, I have to concede there must be something in this. Someone I was happily in the fledgling stages of a relationship with once told me I scared him, shortly before running for the hills. And while some men may say they want the brains, beauty and balls package deal, when actually faced with pretty and witty and bright, they do tend to get intimidated and wonder what they can bring to the table. This is not just me being conceited - I’ve witnessed the same reactions to some of my feisty and amazing thirty-something single female friends.

But if my ‘problem’ is that I don’t need a man to function in life, then it’s a problem that I’m proud of and more than happy to be burdened with. Or maybe I just need a man of equal strength who can admire and encourage the self-sufficiency that I consider an asset, rather than feel threatened by it. Either way, it doesn’t mean I don’t want a man, and my main argument would be that surely it’s better, and healthier, to be invited into someone’s life because you’re genuinely loved and wanted than because you’re needed and depended on anyway?

So until my perfect man, or someone I sincerely mistake for him, comes along, I’ll get on with my life and be completely fine and happy on my own. And (shock, horror!) even if he never comes along, I’ll still get on with my life, and remain completely fine and happy on my own.

So in future, if you must take such interest in my personal life, then please don’t ask why I don’t have a boyfriend. Try instead: ‘Why are you single?’ – it will guarantee a much more positive response. 

But be careful - my answer might just be: ‘Why aren’t you?’

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