A couple of weeks ago, I celebrated five years of being single. I took myself out on a nice little date for some delicious fro-yo. Many of you probably saw the FB post, possibly even liked it.
I wasn't making some sort of grand feminist, anti-guy statement, nor was it an attempt to lash out against my ex. I was making a grand, I-am-perfectly-content-being-single statement. When I realized that day that it was the fifth anniversary of having my heart broken to pieces, I realized that I was okay with it -- that the fact that I hadn't had a boyfriend in five years wasn't the end of the world. That may not seem like that big of a deal, but if you would have told me five years ago (or even two years ago, or even six months ago!) that I would be here today saying that the utter lack of a guy in my life is nothing to stress about, I wouldn't have believed you.
Because, to be honest, all of my life, or at least most of it, the most important achievement to me was to find a guy, fall in love, get married and have babies. I grew up in the idyllic American family -- a successful businessman father, a stay-at-home mother, an older brother and family dog. My parents were even high school sweethearts. Most of my friends had similar families -- dads worked, moms stayed home, two (maybe three) kids and a family pet. It was normal, and I never imagined my life would be any different. I didn't want my life to be any different.
I remember when I visited my undergrad advisor during my first semester of seminary. When I told her I had a boyfriend, she was immediately concerned that I would give up academics for him, that I would get married instead of get a PhD. I'm not gonna lie, it was a legit concern. I probably would have forewent (or at least postponed) PhD studies for him. I would have made that sacrifice.
But five years of singlehood has brought many adventures that I never would have imagined or even considered. I mean, on a whim, I applied to Hebrew University in Jerusalem and ended up living in Israel for nine months. I packed my bags and moved to California to get a PhD. I can devote myself to my studies without worrying about maintaining a healthy relationship or stressing over financing a family. (Not that I don't have plenty of friends who are doing a stellar job managing both their studies and having a family) I get to live in a dorm, which may sound like torture, but I actually really love it. I have a community that loves and supports me and that I in turn love and support. I have been far more successful in this program than I ever thought I would be. I am accomplishing everything I ever wanted to academically. And I am single.
When I say I am living my dream, I mean it. There used to be a little tug on my heart when I said that, like I knew I wasn't being entirely truthful because my dream always included having a family. I'm not saying I've sworn off men entirely or that I am going to go join a convent, but I am finally comfortable in my own skin, by myself. We all hear (and probably spout) the whole feminist women-don't-need-men-to-complete-them line, which is true. It also makes females who want a man feel like crap, like they aren't strong enough to stand on their own, or least, it made me feel that way. I mean, yeah, I don't need a man to complete me, but that doesn't mean I didn't *want* a man anyways. Women live in this double bind of being told they don't need a man to complete them yet when they do find someone, that person makes them "whole." In other words, being a female isn't easy. In case anyone was wondering.
What I am really trying to say is that whether I am complete or incomplete, whole or partial, I am content. I am single, and I am okay. I still find certain guys attractive, and every now and again I feel lonely, but all-in-all, I am content. I am satisfied with my life. I am living my dream, which at this moment does not include a male co-star. That might change. Then again, it might not. But regardless, I am the star, the leading lady. There are plenty of supporting characters, but no one should upstage me in my own dream.
So yes, I am five years single. But I am never alone.
No comments:
Post a Comment