I am all I need

Or at least I’m trying to convince myself that.

I get into a discussion with Mike about how I am prepared to be alone. It’s not meant to sound like some sort of “boo-hoo, woe is I” emotive lonely woman blabber talk. But he sees it that way and he’s looking at me with this disgusting pity-drenched, disappointed gaze.

“I’m not saying I’ve given up and I’m just going to write everyone off from here on. I’m just saying that it’s entirely possible that I’ll never meet someone I want to be with, and I’m ready for that possibility.”

“That’s just sad.” He’s shaking his head. “You have a lot to offer.”

“I never said I didn’t!” I’m getting irritated now. He has turned something I saw as a show of solidarity within myself, an acceptance that I am okay alone, into some sort of weepy cry for help.

“I don’t think you know that you have a lot to offer and you’re just accepting that you’re never going to find someone to give it to.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. Just forget it.”

Fine, I get it. Humans are supposed to latch onto one another and have babies. I’m ready for that outcome also, but just because I’m prepared for the very real possibility that I won’t find someone, it doesn’t mean I’ve rolled over and decided to be fat and join PETA.

Maybe my problem is the opposite from what Mike was talking about. I think I have too much to offer and I adamantly refuse to settle. I got into a heated discussion with S once about how I can’t give guys a chance. If I don’t feel that surge as soon as I meet them or soon after, I just can’t ever see them in a romantic light. And believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve gone on dates I didn’t really want to be on, I’ve dated guys I knew I’d never really fall for in the hopes that I might, and all it did was make me resent them for not being who I wanted. It made me cruel. S said I was close-minded, too picky, I was denying myself the opportunity to get to know a lot of guys that I could potentially have some sort of life-altering whirlwind romance with. I told him he didn’t know me well enough to assume this and he should shove his judgment up his ass.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I’m not giving certain people their due. But maybe I just want too much and I know I want too much and I know that I’m not one of those people who settle or grow with one another. I can’t be my parents who hate each other but grew to tolerate and maybe even love each other. Out of necessity, not desire. Maybe I just know myself and what I want.

I’m ready to accept being alone because I’ve seen too many people force themselves to care about someone they don’t really care about just to fit the societal norm, just to fulfill their duty as animals—survive, mate, reproduce, repeat.

I’m not all that concerned with whether or not I deviate from the norm. If I’m alone, I’m alone. I’ll live. If I don’t have kids, so be it. I’d rather travel. The majority might look at me from their pastel stucco houses and label me “spinster” or say, “how sad, she had so much potential and now she’s all alone.” But the only difference between them and me is that given an option between a life of mediocrity with a tepid marriage and children versus a life alone, most would opt for the marriage and kids where I’d rather create my happiness alone.

-L