Why I Love Singlehood: (2 page)

“So Eva, isn’t it about time you split one of these muffins with someone?” Tracy asked.

I floundered for a moment, unsure how to answer. “Nah,” I parried, “I can eat the whole thing by myself.”

“Come on,” Spencer wheedled. “Quit teasing. For real, when are you gonna get yourself a guy to boss around?”

“I have Norman.”

“I heard that!” Norman called from behind the counter.

“Seriously,” said Spencer.

“Who says I don’t already have one?” I replied.

“Because we’d have heard about it by now,” Tracy said. “Or seen him here.”

“What can I say? I like being single.”

Spencer and Tracy exchanged skeptical glances before looking back at me.

“
Really
?” they said together, followed by, “Why?” while another asked, “Who 
likes
 being single?”

“It’s not some horrid disease,” said Sister Beulah, the nun from Saint Someone-or-Other who had slipped in as the lovebirds were leaving. She retrieved her usual order from Norman and sat at Minerva’s table, relocating the roses yet again. “Granted, my valentine doesn’t send me cards, but I sure don’t miss dating.”

“Come to think of it, when was the last time you even went on a date?” Norman asked me as I joined him behind the counter. The Originals followed with choruses of “Saayyy, yeah.”

“It has been awhile,” said Jan.

“Yes, you should put yourself back out there,” Sister Beulah added.

I looked at her, incredulous; I detested the phrase “put yourself out there” almost as much as the phrases “any guy is lucky to have you” and “I just want to be friends.” The first two were supposed to be phrases of encouragement, but I had always seen them as patronizing. The third, however, was the cold kiss of death in the dating world.

“I really don’t mind it. Besides, who has time? Ever since I left teaching, I’ve put all my energy into getting The Grounds up and running. It’s only in the last few months that I’ve even had a second to breathe.”

“Bull,” said Norman, careful not to curse in front of the clientele. “I have plenty of time for dates. In fact, I just took a girl out for dinner last week.”

“All due respect, Norm-o, managing a business is not the same as owning it.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. “But I think it’s a crock.”

At the end of the shift, as Norman headed out the door, he ran through a list of reminders for me.

“Oh, and don’t forget to update The Grounds Web site and Facebook page. It’s your turn.”

“No problem, Norman. Second date with that girl tonight?”

“Nah. The dinner last week was nice, but the date wasn’t. You’re my valentine this year.”

Leave it to Norman to turn my face a shade of pink that matched the paper hearts.

After a shower and pizza delivery that night, I opened my laptop and surfed to The Grounds’s profile page on Facebook. After adding an event sponsored by North Carolina College of Liberal Arts and uploading a new photo of Vanilla-Macadamia Supremes, I opened a new window to
Groundskeepers
, our networked blog.

The idea of splitting a muffin with someone had lingered in my mind all day. I stared at the screen for a moment before my fingers danced across the keyboard.

Why I Love Singlehood

Is it me, or is society split into two ways of living: couplehood and singlehood? And the former is vastly preferred over the latter. This afternoon my customers looked at me as if I needed prescription medication because I opted for singlehood. As if I needed to be exiled to a special singles community, quarantined until my desire to procreate was restored. As if I needed to buy a condo and adopt a cat, two prerequisites for the modern bachelorette.

I am thirty-three years old and extolling the virtues of singlehood while dispelling the stereotypes of lonely, desperate people hungering for their weddings and becoming wine connoisseurs in their spare time rather than going to a restaurant or a movie by themselves. And I—gasp!—have both dined and done the movies solo, and survived.

Here are just a few of the many reasons why I love singlehood:

Bathrooms

It’s been two years since I’ve shared a bathroom with a guy. Since I’ve shared a bathroom with anyone. This is enough time to condition anyone to hold on to the luxury of not having to step over a pile of wet towels to mop up the puddles of water post-shower, wash my hands in a sink of stray shaved facial hair, or clean up gobs of toothpaste. To say nothing of his impatience over my taking up time for primping, and coveting counter space for jars and tubes and bottles of lotions and oils and sprays and gels.

Should I meet someone new and fall in love and move in with him, we’re gonna have to get a place with at least two fully equipped bathrooms. Faulty wiring, cockroaches, peeling paint, freezing pipes, and two bathrooms? We’ll take it! (OK, maybe not the cockroaches…) Affordable central air, dishwasher, washer-dryer, hardwood floors, fireplace, balcony, cleaning service, big kitchen, picture windows, swimming pool, tennis court, and only one bathroom? Thanks, we’ll keep looking.

Schedule Confirmation

Case in point: my sister wound up having to call off her plans to visit me two weeks ago. The kids had soccer practice and music lessons, her husband had business trips and golf tournaments, etc. No one could get their schedules to mesh. When I try to get together with my married friends, they’ve got to consult with their spouses and BlackBerrys days in advance, coordinate who’s got what car, check in on walkie-talkies and send smoke signals, and that’s not even including the ones with kids. When someone sends me an invitation, the only thing I need to consider is my calendar and whether I’m in the mood for a drive. (I admit that being my own boss helps.) And, of course, I’m usually the one that has to drive to their house because it’s more convenient for them and their others.

I can get on a plane, a train, or a ferry with as little hassle and as much ease as possible. And I can go anywhere I choose: Raleigh. Gainesville. Canada. Dollywood. I am home every Christmas without having to also do the in-law thing. I am sitting on my couch choosing from my pick of TV show marathons on New Year’s Eve without having to worry about an office party full of people I’ve barely met. And don’t even get me started on the joys of no babysitters. Not that I don’t love my married or parental friends, or kids, even. I love them dearly, and their kids, too. I especially love my niece and nephew. But I love my freedom more.

The Avoidance of Creeps

They’re out there, trust me. Granted, there are more good guys than creeps. Exponentially more. But creepy guys are like vampires; all it takes is one to spook you forever.

Granted, a wedding ring may be the ultimate creep repellant, but I’ll sacrifice meeting a few good guys if it means avoiding a few creeps along the way.

Fiscal Responsibility

Spend thousands of dollars on a gown I’m only going to wear for six hours at best? Spend thousands more on flowers that will wilt before day’s end? Spend still more on a DJ who plays music that could be easily downloaded from iTunes? Granted, you get thousands of dollars in gifts if you’ve got generous and rich friends and family. But in that case, why not just have a yard sale?

The one concession I’ll make is the bridal registry. I couldn’t care less about china patterns; but new cookware, a popcorn popper, ice cream maker, and every kitchen utensil there is, not to mention fluffy new towels and bath soaps—well, that’s just cool.

Ah, but what about eloping? you ask. Isn’t that fiscally responsible? Beats paying for that enormous tent, yes, or making sure all the chairs’ slipcovers have the right bows on them. But why not just splurge on an annual cruise and skip the wedding part?

What It’s Really All About

One of my most vivid memories from childhood is staying home from school sick and watching soap operas with my sister. My mother didn’t approve of me watching soaps because she thought I was too young, but fortunately she was at work. The kissing part is what I remember. At twelve years old, I was all in favor of kissing. Dating, being in love, romance, the bride and groom, etc.—I wanted in on all of it. Couplehood, essentially. That intention was as authentic and natural and lovely as could be.

But these days, it’s not so much about soul mates as it is about best friends. When the romance dies, when the breasts go south, when you wake up and the person next to you has the same dog-breath as you do, what really matters is that your best buddy remembered that it’s the anniversaries of your parents’ deaths and gave you a hug. And you don’t necessarily need to be married to him or her. S/he could be your brother or sister, your dog or cat, your partner in crime or brother in arms.

Do I miss companionship? Not really. In my line of work, it’s impossible to be alone or lonely. Even at night.

Do I still want couplehood? I honestly don’t know. Depends on what day you ask. But what I do know is love doesn’t understand numbers or logic. Doesn’t know race or culture, gender or age. Love just is. And it’s as simple as that.

Relationships, however, are an entirely different matter.

All you need is love, sang the Beatles, but they never said what kind. Give me companionship and camaraderie, but keep your bathroom to yourself.

“You have 
got
 to make it its own blog,” Minerva said the following afternoon at The Grounds, where the Topic of the Day, to my surprise, was “Why I Love Singlehood.”

“I concur,” said Norman. “We want more. You can be Wilmington’s own Carrie Bradshaw.”

“Hardly,” I retorted, then looked at Minerva. “Really?”

“See for yourself,” said Minerva, who proceeded to read out loud while I looked over her shoulder: “
This post is the anti
–Sex and the City.
You are dispelling
—and ‘dispelling’ is misspelled with two
s
’s and one
l—the belief that being single is being less than, and that the sole
—spelled s-o-u-l—
the sole goal in the life of a single woman is to not be single, especially when you consider that half of all marriages end in divorce. Hello? Doesn’t that signify that jumping into a relationship just for the sake of not being alone is not a good idea?
”

“Who says that’s why they’re ‘jumping’ into marriage?” said Spencer.

“Good point,” I said.

“Here’s another one,” said Minerva, and read out loud again. “
It’s a testament against the Prince Charming myth that says he’s going to come and rescue you. Please. He can’t even pick up his socks off the floor.
Hmmm…disappointed, are we?”

Sister Beulah laughed and read another. “This is in response to the other comment,” she said. “
Who said that’s the only reason people get married? And who said that’s the reason people are getting divorced?
Your point exactly, Spencer.”