I just had one of those days where I spontaneously started crying in my office. Who wants to be that girl, the girl who cries in her office? Weak, emotional -- such a woman. I didn't want to be that girl. But as I throw my 834th tissue of tears and snot into my waste bin, I realize I am.
What triggered my crying spell?
I get an email from a girlfriend about a trip we're all taking. Seven people are going. Three couples. And me.
And while I know that I choose to be single, blah blah blah, it just made it painfully obvious and real that I was alone. I would be alone in my hotel room. Alone when going out. Alone with three perfectly happy couples.
And amidst all the guys that I've met--the Guy, the 9.5 kisser guy, the grad student, Online Guys #s 1-4, and so on--none of them have materialized into something real. And while it's a rush and an ego trip to meet new guys and easily brush them off when they sweat you, seeing that email listing the couples made my single status all the more palpable. And it made me sad.
So I have my job. My money. My apartment. My friends. My transient "admirers." But if I don't have that deep, profound connection with a man I love, then what do I have?
I guess all this time I've been repressing the fact that I miss it. I miss him. The Boyfriend. The Relationship. That guy you lounge around with on Saturday morning in bed or goof around with while watching Saturday morning cartoons and eating eggs and toast. I miss being able to walk around in just a t-shirt and no make-up and being able to plop my legs on his lap while I read a magazine and he watches ESPN. I miss having my arm around his waist, and his arm draped over my shoulder and being able to effortlessly say to him "I love you." There are no games. You both know what's up. It's simple, and it's great.
All this time I've been fronting like I'm the shit, that I have it all, that I am so together without a man. Yet when I see that one email clearly identifying me as the sole single girl, I realize the truth. And the floodgates open. Literally.
Every feminist in the world is probably hating my guts. And who knows, maybe I'm just writing all this because I'm running on four hours of sleep and stress. But I can't help what I feel. I can't help what I am.
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2 comments:
This sounds similar to the way I felt today for identical circumstances: an email about a wine trip coming up this weekend with six couples and then me. Each couple is supposed to bring a bottle of wine to a dinner after the tour. What's worse is that, up until fairly recently, I was supposed to be with my wife. Maybe the wine will be a comfort.
You don't have to be so tough. Breaking down like you did is a good thing because you've been reminded about what you want, and putting up a front probably doesn't help you get that.
You're not alone. It's my life too. Hanging out with couples. As a fellow single yellow gal, I know I technically have it all, a good job, enough money, friends, family, etc. All except the boy. The one to share it all with. And you can't help but feel weak some days so no honest sane feminist should ever judge you for that.
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