Were I to think about it for any length of time I imagine
that it would bother a single gal like me. I admit I cried like a baby while attending the second
wedding of one of my gal pals (especially when the pastor spoke words like
“loyalty” and “forever”). It was,
however, nothing a few beverages from the hosted bar couldn’t momentarily
alleviate.
To ask what it is about weddings that cause one to bemoan
her singlehood would be a difficult question to answer succinctly. Here’s what I wonder, though: Is it really the fact that I haven’t
dated anyone in well over a year (maybe even two years?!) that inspires me to
become morose? Is it that weddings
are a declaration of everlasting love yet my marriage certainly didn’t last
that long? Am I merely brooding
because everyone is coupling like animals heading toward the ark while I
continue to live like a hermit?
Not quite.
Upon examination of the three years since the divorce, I have confronted so many soul-searching questions…about love…life…my sense of self. It has been a time fraught with periods
of self-loathing and loneliness, combined with momentary glee and relief to not
be dating/married to someone who doesn’t love me. I also realize that while marriage is not far from my mind
(how can it be with the inundation of reminders?), the longer I am
single, hermitude often replaces social gatherings on the scale of
priorities. I often feel the need
to re-charge during the course of my rocky journey of self-discovery. I am also less apt to allow someone to
invade my space. Sure, I’d love
someone to share life’s moments with, but need they live in my house?
Hmmmmm, perhaps all of this effort to be self-reliant is
damaging my ability to be swept up in romantic notions.
Oh, who am I kidding?
Not since I was courted by the recovering meth addict—an unfortunate
pairing which, at least, taught me a few lessons about what I will and won’t
tolerate in a relationship—have I even attempted to date anyone for any
length of time.
In my 20s I was rarely single…now I find at the crux of my
“situation” a deep-seated dissatisfaction and fear that my life will not move
forward. I am so happy for others’
successes, emotional or otherwise, but it is not without wistful yearning for
my own (additional) chance at love. Hell, even
the recovering meth addict got married shortly after we dated.
I know, I read it on Facebook.
