Aloneness ≠ Loneliness
“So, are you dating anyone?”
That seems to be the one question that people ask me fairly consistently — and it usually happens in the first 20 minutes of conversations. I can’t quite tell if it’s merely a common way to initiate small talk, or if they are genuinely curious to know or perhaps, a subtle nudge to remind me about where exactly a woman my age should be. Come to think of it, it’s probably a little bit of all three.
The question though, is not nearly as amusing to me as the reactions that I get when they hear my answer. Slight variations in timing and expressions — but the general sentiment? Pretty much all the same.
No, and I’m happy. Admittedly, I’m the happiest I’ve been…ever.
They never seem prepared for my answer nor are they willing to accept it at face value. As a matter of fact, a lot of them blurt out the same auto-response you’d expect.
“That’s awesome, Anne! Good for you. He will come when you least expect it! Don’t look for love, it will find you.”
And as much as they try to hide it in their carefully selected words that would dare not come off judgemental (hence why they probably revert to the same canned statement), their eyes can’t hide the genuine remorse and apathy that they feel for me and my [unfortunate] situation.
Wait, wait. No, really. I’m seriously happy!
At some point, I had to question whether I was articulating myself well enough or there was a level of dishonesty in the tone of my voice. In worst times, I was close to convincing myself that maybe there was something wrong with my own frame of thinking. Maybe I should be sad about it. Maybe I should be worried.
Naturally, some of those encounters have left me feeling flustered — certainly not because I care about what people think, but mainly because even in my best attempt to answer those questions truthfully and wholeheartedly, I failed miserably to let the genuineness of my heart shine. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around why people seem to believe that it’s impossible for you to be alone and be happy at the same time. It’s as if those two concepts can never ever E-VER co-exist. Then it struck me. It isn’t me. Shoot, it isn’t even them. It’s the world we live in. It’s exactly how we are hard-wired by society to believe: aloneness always equates loneliness.
When I was in high school, I would see my mom (who was then single) staying home on Friday evenings watching TV. I desperately tried to convince her to go out with her friends. I felt bad for her. She would just brush me off and let me know she chose and wanted to stay home. “What a bunch of bologna,” I silently muttered. I was convinced she was unhappy and just didn’t want to show it. I didn’t get it. Just like many of my friends don’t get it now.
But here’s the real issue at hand, I don’t mind being judged — people are welcome to think that I’m putting up a facade and that behind closed doors, I’m actually spending my evenings alone in my apartment with my butt sinking into my couch and my heart equally sinking into misery. What bugs me the most is how many of my not-yet-married friends are programmed to think that being in ANY(or worst, a miserable and abusive) relationship is better than being alone. They have completely succumbed to the societal pressure that when you hit a certain age, you should be married and you should be settled down. So they find the next guy in their line of sight — I mean, forget that he doesn’t treat women in a respectable manner or heck, he’s not even the slightest attractive in mind, body and soul — and marry him. Yup, because that’s a whole lot better than being alone. Except, of course, when you are actually stuck in (as in married into) one — and you would do anything to find the nearest and easiest exit.
So if you ask me to pick between a bowl of ice cream, or a constantly screaming husband ringing in my ear? Well, I’ll have to settle with the two boys I know who will never, ever fail me: Ben and Jerry.
