“I’m Just Me!”

I caught up with a friend the other day. She expressed that since turning 50 a few years ago, she has found people’s attitudes towards her romantic life seem to have changed, and she is very relieved about it.

Her story is somewhat unusual by today’s standards. She has been single for most of her life. Over the years she has only had two people express a romantic interest in her. Once was when she was 20, when an 18 year old had a schoolboy crush on her, which was all very awkward and embarrassing. The other person was her now ex husband, to whom she was married for a little over a decade, a long time ago.

When she was young and watching all of her friends settle into marriage, she naturally went through the whole “when will it be my turn?” phase. But as she’s aged, and after her divorce, the fact that she is single doesn’t bother her as much. She’s learned contentment, and, whilst occasionally she would like to have a man to help out in certain situations, she is quite happy being on her own.

My friend expressed to me the frustration she felt for so many decades when well meaning people would tell her, “You’re such a lovely person.” She said that statement would always, without fail, be followed up with, “Don’t worry. There’s a man waiting around the corner for you.” or, “Any man would be glad to have you. It will happen when you're not looking.”

Such sentiments were apparently often a large test of her friendships as she learned to control her temper whenever they were stated!

She told me that not long before she turned 50 she had a significant dream. In it she was sitting a music exam. She had finished performing her pieces and was waiting while the two examiners had a conversation, having seemingly forgotten that she was there. Eventually she interrupted them, asking them what they would like her to play for the technical section of the exam. Their response was that they had decided not to continue the examination as they had been speaking to another musician prior to the exam, who had said that she was a lovely person, so they had already processed the result with honours.

My friend woke from her dream feeling absolutely furious. However, she said that it had brought clarification as to why her friends’ well meaning sentiments had caused her so much frustration over the years.

She said to me that, number one: She’s no lovelier than the next person, and she is no more, or less, deserving, than anyone of anything, marriage or otherwise. Number 2: Where was the mysterious man that everyone seemed to think existed? Nobody but God knows the future, and if He chooses for her to remain single for the rest of her life, that’s just the way it is. She’s ok with it and other people should be as well.

Then she said that once she turned 50, people stopped making the second statement. It was as if they’d finally given up on her finding a mate. She laughingly said that while she is overwhelmingly relieved by the absence of the follow up nonsense sentence, she doesn’t quite know what to make of its sudden withdrawal. Has her appearance become strangely old and haggard overnight? Is 50 now the age of the lost romantic cause?

She still occasionally receives the “You’re a lovely person,” statement, although not as often. She wonders if the confidence she has gained as she has aged, may have tainted her “lovely” image. Or perhaps, she says, she’s too lovely, Maybe she scares people off by being too good to be true.

All this she said with a twinkling eye, even as I cheekily reassured her that either way, she’s still a “lovely person”.

Our conversation continued. We remembered with some bewilderment that not too many decades ago, job applications were expected to include the applicant’s marital status. Whilst this seems to have changed over the years, the general label of “single” or “married” seems to still be an obligitory topic of small talk. But my friend says, “I don’t think of myself as being single or married. I’m just me.”

It’s difficult not to compare the imposition of the marital status label, to the labels imposed upon people who have some kind of disability. (Even the word “disability” is contentious.) The approach that society is now encouraged to take regarding the latter, has changed over the years. We now speak of someone as having dyslexia, for example, rather than someone being dyslexic. So, taking that formula, my friend could say, “I’m Freeda and I have singleness.” (!)

But we wondered why it even comes into the conversation. What unfavourable difference does one’s status of singleness make to the quality of one’s conversation, or further, to one’s contribution to society?

My friend and I shortly realised that the limited time that our coffee date afforded was not enough to solve the problems of the world’s attitudes to her singleness, and we should continue the conversation on another day.

So I’ll keep you posted. You never know: When I next see her the conversation might revolve around unicorns and rainbows as she espouses the wonders of her unexpectedly newfound romantic love…

Nikki

Freeda gave me her permission to tell her story and even to change her name to Freeda. She’s a good sport!