Something Personal: Why I'm Single

My last post was titled "In Defense of a Single Woman Giving Relationship Advice". The point of that post was to reinforce the point that despite my being without a romantic partner, the delightful relationships I have with friends and family are evidence that my advice is sound and useful and that I have the experienced-based credibility to give it.

In the course of that post, I called attention to the fact that I am single. I didn't get into the reasons I am single (they would have been off-topic and made for an unnecessarily lengthy post). I ventured to guess, though, that people might be curious about why a person who makes a habit of giving relationship advice doesn't have a romantic partner. So, here's the list:

1. My parents have set a crazy high bar for what relationships ought to look like.

This coming August, my folks will have been married to each other for 38 years. Having been born one month before their first wedding anniversary, I can truthfully say that I can't speak to the quality of their relationship as I was growing up. As an adult, though, I look at my parents' relationship with one another as an ideal form of love. They honor and respect each other. They collaborate on every decision they make. They are similar enough to have a strong foundation on which to build love and closeness while also being different enough to off-set one another's imperfections. They laugh together, they play together, they seek out one another's company. They are as comfortable sitting silently in one another's presence as they are talking about things ranging from the mundane to the critical. They are the definition of love. The reason they are so important in my singlehood is that I refuse - and I do mean patently and unequivocally refuse - to settle for anything less than what they have. This necessitates my being patient enough to indulge my spectacular selectivity.

2.  I'm not what most people would consider conventionally attractive.

Not that I've ever taken a survey, but I'd venture to guess that if 100 people were randomly asked to rate my attractiveness on a 1-10 scale, I'd end up being a solid 4.5. I'm short, overweight, my hair is coarse and wild (thanks in no small part to my grandmother's Puerto Rican roots), and my nose is too big for my face while my eyes are too small. No, I'm not nitpicking my imperfections. I'm simply making a candid statement about those features that consistently work to undermine people finding me aesthetically pleasing.

The reason my looks matter are that a) physical attraction is an almost inevitably necessary component of romantic interest, and b) because I don't meet most men's standard of attractiveness, it shrinks the pool of available partners. In my experience, men who are attracted to me are approximately as (un)attractive as I am. As it happens, being not-particularly-attractive doesn't exempt a person from wanting to be with a person whom we find attractive. So, speaking purely statistically, if we take into consideration the available, heterosexual men in an appropriate age range in the geographic area in which I live, the number of men who find me attractive whom I also find attractive is extremely small. Trying to catch that fish in the great big sea poses a logistical challenge I'm not too terribly interested in expending a lot of time and energy on. I would rather spend time doing things I already do that make my life awesome.

3. My life is stupidly awesome.

I have a job I love. I write this blog. I casually give people advice about how to navigate a hitch or a problem in their close relationships. In about four weeks I'm going to be legally certified to do family mediation. I have friends and family whom I love and who love me back. I live in the beautiful Appalachian hills. I have enough money to pay my bills, buy a few small indulgences, and have drinks with friends. My life is awesome.

The reasons the awesomeness of my life contributes to my singlehood are two. First, I don't want to divert energy away from the things that already make my life great to go on an effortful fishing expedition to find my future husband. Second, I'm looking for someone who can make what is already awesome even more awesome. I don't need a partner to make my life great or whole or complete. If I felt like my life had a hole in it that only a romantic partner could fill, I would be a bit less selective in my screening process and likely be able to find someone who could give me a sense of wholeness that I was missing. Instead, a fella has to be positively amazing in order to make my already fabulous existence better (heck, I don't even know what is more fabulous than fabulous). In my experience, dating to screen for people who have that potential has been more frustrating and anxiety-producing than fruitful.

4. I hate dating.

My relationship history is full of men who absolutely fell short of making my awesome life better. More than that, though, the men in my history have all (with the single exception of my last serious relationship) been . . . how do I say this without cussing . . . you know what, never mind - shitbags. They've all been absolute shitbags. They were really, honestly dreadful people. Liars, cheaters, emotionally abusive, unable to disclose their feelings, unable to decide where I fit into their lives, blah blah blah.

My point is not to bash my exes (after all, I did pick them, at least for a short time). My point is that dating for me has been painful. I made the decision shortly after I broke up with my last serious partner that I didn't want to date anymore. It occurred to me that I was unhappy while I was dating. I was always anxious and stressed out. Dating isn't something that I enjoy. Now, there are things we must do that we do not enjoy - like eating veggies, going out into the snow to go grocery shopping, or flossing - dating is not something that I must  do. It's totally optional. Which means I could opt out. So I have.

Let me be clear: this post isn't designed to advocate for being single. Singlehood isn't for everybody. Lots of people are much happier in a relationship than they are alone. As it happens, I'm not one of them - at least not right now. I haven't totally ruled out the possibility of being willing to reenter the dating pool at some point. I also haven't ruled out the off chance that some serendipitous meeting with a stranger may turn into a lifetime of pair-bonded happiness. I've just decided that, for right now, at this stage in my life, given the people in my dating pool and given the high expectations I have for a partner and a relationship, I'm happily and voluntarily single.

In the meantime, my life is full of love and joy and I'm content to let that sustain me.

Something Personal: In Defenese of a Single Woman Giving Relationship Advice

As I start this post, there are about 55 minutes remaining in Valentine's Day 2014. Being single, and being friends with mostly pair-bonded folks, I spent the majority of my day alone - delightfully so. I listened to the sound of the week's snow melting on an unusually warm day, ate left over pizza, and trolled about on social media. In checking both my Facebook and Twitter feeds, I noticed an abundance of the inevitable Valentine's Day-hating posts. As a person who believes in love, I find these types of posts irritating. Valentine's Day is about celebrating love, no matter who that love is with. As I often do when something annoys me, I went on a short little Facebook rant asking the offenders to quit posting such cynical junk (If you care to read it - it's all of 125 words - you can find it here).

In the course of writing that post, I found myself arguing something that I have argued countless times before in my own defense as a single woman who gives relationship advice. So, in the spirit of openness, honesty, candor, and love, I'd like to call attention to my own singlehood, and in the course of doing so defend my credibility as a giver of relationship advice.

So, I am single. Not just unmarried, but entirely single. My last serious relationship ended about 2 years ago (at least I think it was about 2 years ago; I'm terrible with dates). Since then, I have had one date with one guy, after which I enthusiastically decided to take an indefinite hiatus from dating. (If you're nosy about why I'm single, I wrote a separate post to address that point which you can read here.)

The reason I thought it was important to mention my singlehood, finally, was because I get asked a lot (mostly by men) what business I have giving relationship advice if I'm not in a relationship. Like the begrudgingly-single Facebook posters I mentioned above, I find people who ask me that question to be short-sighted and narrow-minded.

The fact is that on every single day of my life I actively and mindfully live every piece of advice I have ever given in this blog in all of my non-romantic relationships. I have had the same best friend since I was 14 years old (that comes out to about 61% of the total time I've spent on this planet), I have close relationships with my parents and my sister (who is a very, very different kind of human being than am I), my cousins who live about five hours away in North Carolina, and the handful of close friends I've made over the last six and a half years living and working in Johnson City, Tennessee. I have been able to form, grow, and maintain these relationships because I know what I'm doing - not just in a theoretical way, but in an actual, practical way. The old adage about those who can't do teach does not apply to me.

So you see, dear readers, love and intimacy aren't just the stuff of romantic bonds. They are the force that brings life to any close relationship. The advice I give here shouldn't be applied just to your romantic relationships. Rather, you should use it in every relationship you ever have. Do that, and I can about assure you that your life, like mine, will be characterized by an overflowing abundance of love, warmth, and affection. To that I say, more of that. 

Happy Valentine's Day.