I was watching a movie the other day that utterly depressed me. I intensely related with the character, empathized really. She was a 30-something surrounded by a sea of married friends and other couples. Unfortunately, she had absolutely no luck with men. She was drowning in her own anxiety and fears of ending up alone, forever. Her life became solely focused on her relationship status and her self-esteem was intertwined with this goal.
In the movie, she meets a man when she is least expecting it (riiiiight ...) They spend an amazing weekend together full of drama, passion, and lust. Expectedly, circumstances force them apart because he must return to his own country (yep, he was foreign), and eventually, she decides to chase after him. She goes to his country to find him, but through a series of mishaps, she can't. However, she discovers some important life lessons from some people she encountered along her journey. At the last minute before going back home, she sees him on the metro... happily ever after.
Although, a decade younger than the character, I recognize the thirst she has. Her intense desire to be with someone, to have someone, and have someone desire her, to have her, to need her. I think there is something innate in all of us that longs for companionship and intimacy. For me there is an equal force that wants to be independent and not have to rely or answer to anyone.
The other day I was speaking to my friend via Skype and we were discussing our perpetual singleness, when I noticed a spider scampering across my floor. "Sssshit there's a spider! SEE! This is why I need a boyfriend, to kill my spiders for me!" I promptly jumped up, grabbing one of my high heels that had been strewn across the floor and smashed the little bastard with a swift and direct smash. I heard my friend make a cringing "ewww" and the loud pop my heel made against the floor, and the obvious death of the spider.
As I settled back to the computer, I had this realization. I was glad nearly proud that I didn't scream, hop around waving my arms hysterically saying "Oh my god! A spider! HELP!" I was more annoyed and repulsed by the spider's audacity to enter my room uninvited, unannounced, without baring any gifts.
"Wait, no... nooo, I like killing my own spiders!" I told him with resolve. And that is the truth. Not that I take some sadistic pleasure in killing insects, quite the opposite, but the fact that I can do it myself is the point. I learned to deal with these situations out of necessity. As a result of my consistent single condition, I can kill my own bugs, check my car's oil level, I know the difference between a flathead and Phillips head screwdriver, I can travel alone. I have been able to grow as an individual rather than focused on being a couple and making that work.
In there lies the dichotomy. The gratitude and contentment of all that singledom helps cultivate: self-growth, self-reliance, self-love, individuality, and all of those other "self-" words. (feasibly even selfishness?) On the other hand, longing for companionship, romance, love and intimacy and all those other things that are packaged with being an item. I would be lying if I denied the yearning to be a "we" at some point. I suppose the most important thing is, I have been an "I" for the crucial years of self-discovery and personal development. I have been able to focus on who I am and what I really want to become. I suppose I will continue to bounce between desiring a companion and loving the single life! Luckily, at 23, I have plenty of time for it all!
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