On Friday, somebody asked me if I was really depressed about the approaching Valentine's Day.
I pretended I didn't hear her.
Because if I HAD responded to her, I would have went on a soap box and ended-up coming-off insecure and overcompensating, like I really AM depressed and am doing my best to cover it up...so, I just didn't say anything.
As I was on the train home that evening, an older woman next to me started asking me about my Ipod...how many songs I had on it, what kind of songs I had on it, if I liked it.
Of course, if you answer a total stranger's question about your Ipod, it just invites them to ask more and more.
She asked where I had been and where I was going.
She asked about my family.
She asked about my mom, and about my dad...and I really should have just lied, but instead did tell her that he was no longer alive, and, of course...that just gave way to many more questions. (And I got to hear about every tragic thing that had ever happened to her, too.)
Finally, she asked if I was married...no, I'm not...boyfriend...no, don't have one of those, either...and she acted all sad...and asked me why.
I admit...it's very hard to feel secure as a single woman when the majority of the world is telling you that it's impossible for you to be happy and complete as one. Just when I'm feeling 100% okay (or close to it) with things the way they are, somebody makes a comment like that and I wonder if something is desperately wrong with me that this doesn't bother me as much as they think it should.
Am I supposed to make it my life's obsession? Am I supposed to devote all of my time to "finding somebody" just so I "won't be alone" anymore?
I have been reevaluating my life a lot lately...yes, I do waste more time than I should on television shows (I'm looking at you, The Millionaire Matchmaker) and rereading the same books (Jane Austen will never get old!) and playing around on Facebook (I can't help it if my status updates have a following). I should be using that valuable time towards writing more (nobody can write for me), volunteering (I already do, but for some reason, helping really nice kids at church doesn't seem to be as world-changing as I'd like it to be), and socializing.
Now is the time to really make things happen...and why should ending singledom really be my top priority when I have about ten thousand other things going on?
True, I don't make millions, but I value my job and have already accomplished and seen a lot of cool things! I'm a writer, and a pretty good one, and one day, I hope that my stuff can really be out there and I can be one of those people that get to do what I love for a living. I have a fantastic family, a baby nephew who cracks-up when I enter the room, and a four-year-old niece who runs to me and acts like I'm a celebrity whenever she sees me. My life is filled with friends and the arts and literature and the most incredible city in the world.
And, on top of that, people are always telling me how funny and cute I am! That's gotta count for something.
And yet...despite all of that...people think I am supposed to be sad and depressed...and part of me is kinda-sorta-just-a-little-just-a-little little tiny bit-starting to believe that.