Solitude Doesn't Mean Lonely

Received wisdom says that there are three women for every man on the planet, so from the outset, you’re battling the odds. Word on the street has it that all the good men are taken. The men left over just don’t do it for you. All their various shortcomings confirm exactly why they’re still single, and hey, you weren’t born to lap up the dregs. You can’t have the good one you really wouldn’t have minded, because he’s taken - he married your college friend last year. You can’t have the very available one at church for one of three reasons. A) he has crusty feet. The sight of them last summer took the joy out of your iced latte. B) he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and you have dreams. C) he’s a lovely guy. So lovely in fact, that at any given time there are two women who comprise the category of his ‘one and only’. It doesn’t help that the mother of his nine month old child is now back in the stakes.

The next landmark age (one of the really annoying ones that ends in zero, like 30, or 40. Don’t you wish you could go back to 20?) is standing at the end of the road, grinning smugly as you plod your way reluctantly to him. Every time your birthday comes round, he snatches the opportunity to use what should actually be a happy day, as a day of mourning, for the days when you still had ‘all the time in the world’. You probably wished to be here when you were ten, so you wouldn’t have to go to bed at bedtime, but now the day is upon you; you’ve completed half the journey to being a geriatric and the fairy tale you’ve carried with you since girlhood still hasn’t happened.

Here’s a deep question for single women. Are you happy?
In the light of the numerous talk shows, tapes, and books on the keys to successful marriages and relationships, single women are having to find a niche for themselves. But is it that simple? How do you fight the ‘poor me blues’ when you arrive home with aching feet, to leaking taps and rubbish that’s begging to be taken out?

Instead of hating your house for being so empty, shut the door and close your eyes, and enjoy the feeling of having a sanctuary, a sane space that’s all yours, where you can think and cry and grow and be, without having to explain your mood swings to anyone.

Sing loudly, and badly in the shower, confident in the fact that only teddy can hear you, and he wont ever break up with you.
Be thankful that your time is yours. Instead of spending half an hour making the perfect family fry up each morning, you get to use that time to pray. Grab a bagel and a coffee, and meditate on how great God is. Consider this: at 8pm, when your blissfully wedded friend (no hard feelings to married folk, mind!) is moaning to you on the phone about doing laundry on a Friday night, be grateful that you’ve had enough time not only to shave your legs, but to give yourself a mini facial. Imagine trying to clean up after a chronic fling-his-socks-across-the-room-man while you’re pms-ing.

Before you drive yourself into depression over the lack of a cute baby to dress up in Baby Gap and play with, remember it ain’t cute when your earth-mother organic food comes out at the other end with a bad smell and a yell in the middle of the night. If you’re really feeling broody, head down to the local park on your day off. There’ll be lots of tired mum’s only too happy to use your help.

And finally invest in you. Open a regular savings account to squirrel away the extras you don’t crucially need. Treat your friends and family. Shop guiltlessly (but sensibly) while you can still do so without psychologically equating every expenditure to its value in nappies or mother-in-law-birthday lunches.
As the recent Vodaphone ad campaign says, there’s no time like now. It’s easy to disregard what we have in the present because we’re constantly looking to the future ‘in faith’. Any wonder about where those constant feelings of dissatisfaction come from? If today is never good enough, then tomorrow can never be better, and we’ll never appreciate the progress we’ve made since yesterday. Just as companionship is a gift, solitude is a special, and it doesn’t have to mean lonely.

So cheer up, single ladies, we’re in this together. No more moping, and pulling long faces. No more longing glances at the bridal section of the news stand. No more false glossy smiles when wedding announcements are made from the pulpit. Quit cutting your eyes at the blushing couple in Pravins who’ve spent an hour discussing the pros and cons of each style of ring.
Give yourself a hug when you wake up each morning, and work that freedom like a new pair of shoes!


Minjiba Cookey © 2006