Febby 10, 2012
We have so many things to talk about this week. Y’all have been especially full of the kind of woe only a Lady can experience. One topic is particularly high on the dramatic scale, and it’s ohsovery timely, so we’ll chat about it: Valentine’s Day. My favorite. Before I go any further, if you don’t do Valentine’s Day, or you think it’s a marketing ploy, or if you think it’s the kind of day that should be celebrated year ‘round therefor not specifically on Tuesday, then I don’t want you comin’ round here no more. Get over it. You’re annoying and cliché, and no one likes that. Which brings me to my next few points.
It’s in just a few days, and thank sweet, little, powerful baby Jesus because y’all Bitches be drivin’ me crazy. Yikes. Just listening to all of you who are single and depressed and have hatred for the day is reason enough to confirm why you’re single—who would want to date you all sounding like that? Get a clue. And as an equal opportunity employer, I’d like to give a shout out to all of you special Ladies who can’t shut the fuck up about the plans you have set in place with yo Man. We get it; you have a Valentine.
Back to the task at hand: This week’s lesson. Being alone. My least favorite breed of Lady is the kind who can’t be by herself. Not, like, she can’t live on her own, but she, literally, can’t be alone. She always wants hang out, and the mention of an activity is somehow an invitation to join you. These girls go from boyfriend to boyfriend to boyfriend and every time they break up with one, they assert their independence and cite the need to “just be alone for a while” until they are on a date a week later. Like, I cannot deal with these women. I. Can. Not. I have a general aversion to people, so I am the farthest end of the spectrum from this breed of Lady. Somewhere in the middle is a perfect sweet spot, however, and we’ll call it “social independence.” Being able to be alone for the day. Being able to be alone at a restaurant. Being able to be alone in a movie theater or grocery store or at the mall. Being able to be alone on a Friday night or the 4th of July. Being able to live alone. Being able to be alone. Alone. Just you. And your thoughts. Just you and your crazy. Just you at your most raw with no one watching. Just you looking like shit warmed over after a night out and not caring in the least that you’ll remain that way for the next 48-hours, maybe, who knows? Being able to be alone and understand that it does not define who you are. You define who you are. It’d behoove you to get to know yourself. You can’t do that if you’re always surrounded by other people. When you’re a Lady, you also have the added benefit of having to figure out who you are in order to have a successful relationship of any kind. The Mans simply don’t need to carry out that task to the level of execution we do. As a result, being alone presents a slight challenge once you hit your 30s. Because we have to understand that being alone may just mean being alone. As in, we stop sleeping around because at some point in our lives, that behavior becomes counterproductive. If you’re lamenting why no Man will take you seriously, then you need to consider the fact that casual sex is, by definition, not serious. I hate to break it you, but why buy the cow, you know? You know what else you’ll face? The eventual loss of friends who mean anything to you. Without a secure sense of self (and, don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a puppies and rainbows sense of security, but it needs to be honest), it becomes difficult for people to trust, relate, empathize, share and care for you—who are they friends with? You from yesterday? You from last week? You when you’re around a guy? You when you’re around your other friends? Every year that ticks by is another year when relationships that aren’t supportive, 50/50, two-way-street relationships are relationships not worth investing in.
Being alone is not seeing a future with the guy after drinks, thus not continuing on to dinner. Being alone is knowing how to survive with $4 in your bank account and knowing there will be no one else buying your dinner or putting gas in your car, and then figuring out how to recover from a shitty week at work all by yourself (and a handle of Kettle) on top of your poverty. Being alone is learning how to cope with being lonely, how get over feeling sorry for yourself and having the ability to assure yourself that you look amazing before you leave the house with no one there to back you up. Being alone is understanding that sometimes the only person who gives a shit about your problems is you. That begets accountability and humility and all sorts of fun things. For another time….
I was saying…. Okay, so, you’re 30 and single. Why do you have to make a point to state such specifics? No one knows you’re single, and the more you talk about the fact that you’re single, the more people have an aversion to talking to you at all. Why can’t you just be 30 and love the color blue? Why can’t you be 32 and brunette? Why can’t you be 34 and successful? Why can’t you be 31 and independent? Single is a box you check on government forms; it’s not a definition of who you are. Don’t allow single to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. The sooner you understand that the need for social independence—especially in a time of trendy happenings like everyone you’ve ever met getting engaged, married or pregnant—will inevitably arise, then the sooner it is you’ll be prepared to face it. Be so thrilled you still have the opportunity. One day you won’t be alone ever again. Ever. Because one day, you’ll have a husband who doesn’t listen to a thing you say, and will, in due time, forget your name—or, God-forbid, that he has a wife at home at all; you’ll have kids who spend all your money and tell you they hate you; all the while, each of them—including a dog which you stupidly bought for your kids so they’d learn responsibility (seriously?)—will be destroying your house, your car and your physique. That will go on until the day you die. Please hear me girls alone this Valentine’s Day, or last Thursday or next month or on a Friday night like tonight: Feeling secure while being alone is the greatest gift you can give yourself. Period.
You never know, one night, when you’re 35, watching General Hospital from the past week, accompanied by a bottle of vodka and an eighth of Train Wreck (you heard me) you’ll have a dramatic ah-ha moment that will lead you to self-discovery. Those don’t traipse through your head while your thoughts are constantly occupied by the revolving door of life’s needless drama. You’re only doing yourself a favor.
On that note…. I’m off for a weekend of no tennis and a lot of Lady time with some pretty amazing brats. You should know that I am able to super confidently tell you everything I just have because I’ve never had a date on Valentine’s day—or any other day, for that matter—and I think I’m doing just fine. The Big Day is but 96 hours away, and this year, I want you to embrace it; single, committed, disillusioned, optimistic or otherwise. Take the weekend to think about how you want to approach the celebration, even if it’s just that it’s, strategically, a perfect night for Dirty Chinese take-out because everyone else is out to eat at an overrated $85-per-person-without-booze prix fixe dinner, which means delivery times are cut in half. Again, not my first rodeo. And since you’re spending $85—or asking someone else to—make good choices, ‘cause food, like life, you can’t take it back or do it over. Remember that Mama loves you come Tuesday, and every other day. Ooooooh, gurl, especially that one guy.