I opened my fridge the other day and said, “This is the fridge of a single gal.” The entire top shelf in my fridge is devoted to soda and water bottles, which is one of my many fascinating life decisions. Dare I have a shelf strictly for beverages? Yes, I dare.
But I digress. This fridge observation got me thinking about the connotations of being single for men and women. I won’t say it’s more glamorous for men, or even more socially acceptable to be a single guy, but think about it.
Keep in mind, this is all generally speaking. Single men are referred to as bachelors, right? The cool guys with no one checking in on them. Single and free. What about women? Spinsters. Sad, lonely creatures. Single men are thought to be out playing the field, while single women sit at home with their cats, knitting yet another scarf. Single men live in a bachelor pad, the cool place with a foosball table and band posters in the living room. And single women, well, is there a term?
Why? Why is this?
Why are single men seen as carefree, while single women are seen as tragic or something to pity?
How often have you seen or read about a female character who is crippled by the thought of not being married by a certain age? Or not being in a steady relationship? It’s pretty common, I’d say. And if she isn’t concerned about finding a boyfriend, her friends sure are, ready to pair her up with anything. But with men, the one character in the group of friends who is married gets picked on for that very reason. What’s the deal? I just don’t get it.
Being single can be an epic downer some days, while other days, the perks win. For example, I can watch/listen to whatever I want, however loud I want, however long I want, as many times as I want. I can write all day long and not have to answer to anyone. I can sing and dance around my house, like someone who thinks she should, without embarrassment.
But, you know, the sad part of these perks? With time, these things can happen in a relationship too.
However, that fact totally blows my theory, so forget you read it. Girl power!
I’d just like whoever, or whomever if you’re one of those people, to know that being single isn’t as bad as pop culture wants you to believe. I don’t spend every waking minute wishing I had a boyfriend and convincing myself there must be something wrong with me since I don’t. Are there days when I’m overwhelmed with the thought of dying alone under a gigantic knitted blanket in a house with thirty-two cats? Yes. And my eggs are going to shrivel before they have their time to shine? Yes.
But my toilet seat is always down.
To all the single ladies out there, I hear you.
Some days: Other days: