I went to The Civil Wars show last Sunday, and this lyric is the last line from their song, Tho Whom It May Concern. That song is my personal anthem right now.
Which brings me to the point of this post: I'm sooooo over being single.
Despite what I may be conveying to family, friends and society or whatever, my goal is not to be a female George Clooney. Not that I can easily love and leave supermodels whenever I want, but you catch my drift, right? I do want to commit myself to a partner in crime I can trust to stick by me for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live, dammit.
Surrrrre, being single can be SUPER fun! But it's only really enjoyable when you are fairly certain that your single status is only temporary, and when most of your girlfriends are single too. But when you've been single for two looooong years, and your best girls have been paired up for the majority of the time you've been single, it's easy to get discouraged and let your faith in finding the right guy slip into an abyss of cynicism.
After being inundated with information and advice during the past two years regarding dating, relationships, and marriage, I am finally convinced that two is better than one. And sometimes I think finding the right guy for me should be much easier than the years of bad relationships and slew of bad dates (or, bouts of no dates) I've endured. I hear stories all the time of chance meetings that turn into intentional relationships. In fact, I have a Facebook friend who met her husband via an errant text message.
And yet, one can walk into any book store and find an entire section dedicated to literature (for women, by women!) about how to capture a man and sustain a relationship. So, clearly, it's not supposed to be simple, right? Or, conversely, there must be something wrong with me, right?
Although I'm a very independent and self-sufficient woman, I have to admit that for the first time since I was a hormonal and sullen teenager, I feel pathetic about being single. Ouch. It actually hurts to admit that, because I hold a lot of pride in my independence. At 33, though, I've more than proven a point to myself that I can very well stand on my own two feet. Hell, I've learned to stand on one foot and not fall over.
Also, I don't think I've ever been single for this long, and it's frustrating. It's not fun being the odd-numbered wheel and having the waitstaff awkwardly squeeze in an extra chair at the table when dining with my coupled friends. Being the only one going home alone at the end of the evening is also not fun. And maybe I could afford to join them on all the mini-vacations they take throughout the year if only I could split the cost with a significant other. The constant and glaring reminders that I'm my only one and only are utterly heartbreaking at times.
People haven't told me that I'm "too picky," but I can't help wonder if they are thinking it? Well, I'll admit, I am picky. But I don't really intend to be so obsessively selective. I just don't feel what I'm supposed to feel with many guys I meet. While some girls fall in love with whomever asks them for a date, I am the complete opposite of those girls. I'm less than enthused about most guys. I try fighting this feeling by giving guys many more chances than I should, because I hate easily dismissing people. But despite my best efforts, my instincts are usually all up in my face telling me when I'm dealing with Mr.Wrong.
I just can't get over how many Mr. Wrongs I've encountered! Despite the excellent stories that result, having been on so many bad dates is making me feel like I'm the problem. I am a terrible chooser of dates. For crying out loud, I am a terrible chooser of dates! How many more tortuous encounters must this introvert endure before I meet the guy who makes me nervous because I have butterflies and not because I want to bolt? Sometimes I wonder if it will ever happen.
I can't believe I'm going to use this particular example, but do you know how on the show, Say Yes To the Dress, the consultants warn against trying on too many dresses, for fear that the bride will become too overwhelmed and not be able to make a decision about which one she likes best, if at all? Well, what if I've "tried on too many dresses," and I'll never really be happy with any of them because I keep thinking that something better must be available out there somewhere? *Light bulb!* This could potentially be a major reason I'm still single.
I may not be able to undo my many dating disasters (and thank goodness, because it's a lot of fun to tell the headlock story). But perhaps I should be a little more open to letting dates choose me, instead of me choosing someone and projecting all of my expectations onto that person before getting to know them, which inevitably leaves me disappointed.
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