The "Condition" of Being Single

Like most of you and everyone but twins, I was pulled from my mother's womb solo, without accompaniment, except for the angelic choir that I like to believe heralded my entrance into the world with a hallelujah or two. And, like you, when I leave this earthly realm for parts unknown, I'll make that journey by myself, too. Even if fate decrees that I give up my ghost while a passenger aboard a sinking ship or in a plane crash, I'll be alone, as will my equally doomed fellow travelers because we'll each experience our own individual demises. The other victims may merit a brief mention in the hysterical prayer that will occupy my final moments, but, for the most part, the focus will be on me. Save ME, oh Lord! If you have time to save others, fine, but first of all save ME!

Is it any wonder that I tend to dislike being described as "single"? It's a label that implies being on one's own is an unnatural state, something I believe my birth certificate disproves. In early adulthood, we are frequently asked, "Are you single?" As we mature, the question is modified by the appearance of an additional word. "Are you STILL single?" It's like being asked "Are you STILL wearing braces?" or "Are you STILL wearing that nehru jacket?"

Being single is looked upon as a condition, a disability of sorts, that one must make every effort to overcome. It might as well be officially recognized as a personality disorder. Perhaps a previous relationship left us bitter and, therefore, determined to avoid further heartbreak like the guy in that Neil Diamond song who dumps Melinda after he finds her "holding Jim, loving him," then takes up with Sue only to find "that died, too." Being a solitary man sounds attractive in a way. It suggests a rugged, Clint Eastwood type loner with no need for sissy stuff like holding hands, but that image is usually overshadowed by the one of someone sad, lonely, and missing out on the joy that comes with companionship, sort of like the guy in that Neil Sedaka song: "While life goes on around him everywhere, he's playing solitaire."

Even for those of us not named Neil, being single is thought to be a dark, depressing tunnel with only one light at the end: marriage.

"When are you going to get married?"

I have no particular aversion to that question, only to the suggestion, sometimes boldly stated, and always, always, always implied, that the one I marry should be a female. Other than that wrong-headed notion, marriage is not without its appeal. I happen to think I'd look fabulous in a bridal gown (and I guarantee that on the day I tie the knot, I'll insist on wearing one). But until the man I want to spend my life with comes along, the single life is fine with me. I am free to do as I please, when I please, and with whom I please without feeling I must file a report concerning my whereabouts or activities.

And the activities that so many singles dread, such as dining alone, can actually be quite blissful. It can also provide you with opportunities that the presence of a companion would hinder. How can you flirt with that cute waiter when your date is fuming with jealousy beside you?

Being alone is not synonymous with being lonely. It's a time to explore your private thoughts, to make plans for your future, and to get to know the one person you have no choice but to spend your life with. And ponder this thought: If you can't bear your own company, will anyone else care to spend their time with you?

The only drawback to the single life is the image that the word "single" brings to mind. If you're not considered an embittered, anti-social loner or a sad, pathetic creature yearning for companionship, you may be cast in the role of a shallow bed-hopper. That image is the one I find most disturbing. When I think of "swinging singles," I hear disco music throbbing in my ears, and I see men in open-collared shirts with gold chains clinging to a field of sweaty chest hair. Then there's that giant Christmas tree ornament swirling overhead, a scene right out of Saturday Night Fever, a movie I never much liked because those awful white suits even made beautiful, sexy John Travolta look unattractive.

So, if, like me, you're still single, forget about the images that people want to saddle you with. The more you can enjoy time with yourself, the more someone else will want to share that time with you.

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