Someday plus one

I've seen this video before, but it's nice to see it on a night when being alone kind of sucks.

There is so very much about being single that I love: I can do whatever I want. I always get to hold the remote. I don't have to listen to anyone snoring. No one complains in the morning that I kept them awake with my snoring. I don't have to check with anyone before making plans.

But.

Ours is a society that values the next step forward. By that, I mean we all hit our milestones: Get a driving license, graduate high school, go to college, graduate from college, get married, have kids, have grandkids, retire, and on and on. If you're a person whose life differs from the prescribed path, as mine does, you might be split down the middle when it comes to your feelings about what you're "supposed" be be doing. I got the license and the diploma and went to college. 10.5 years later, I got my degree. Now, most of those years were spent taking classes for about a month and then dropping them -- still, when I graduated at 28, I was staring down my fear of turning 30 (which turned out to be hyped-up bullshit) and I was freshly out of my parents' house instead of being 21 with a bunch of Friends-esque roommates with whom to share my existential woes.

The point is that with parents who breezed through college in four years, married at 26, and had me at 29, the fact that I am almost 37, single, and generally happily child-free means I am figuring life out without any sort of stories or advice from people who've already lived through it. A number of my high school classmates were married or soon to be hitched when I saw them at our five-year reunion. At our 15-year reunion, most had at least three children and some were expecting a fourth. My disjointed train of thought is leading to the fact that I've had a number of baby dreams the last few days, all of them so incredibly real that I wake up with the feeling of the child still in my arms. I was at a party yesterday whose small number of guests included two pregnant women, one of whom is due in just a couple weeks. It's hard when baby dreams hit and I am feeling lonely, when the only warmth besides my body in bed is from the cat on my hip. I find myself trudging somewhat through a day, not wanting to do the things that make me a productive member of society. The depression that I already struggle with and stopped medicating some 18 months ago rises up and reminds me that even if I loved to cook, there would be no one at my house to cook for. Reminds me that I will be at the store alone, eating alone, watching TV alone, wondering when my Facebook status will change to "in a relationship" and whether that will last long enough to post other updates, like "My girlfriend made me breakfast in bed" or "Today we celebrate our X-year anniversary."

The primary reason I am alone is because I haven't wanted to date anyone. I am actively not checking my online dating profile. The few dates I've been on in the past year fizzled out and I let them. At the time, I did so because I was ashamed about being unemployed and unable to effectively contribute to a partnership (however brief). Also, the women I met were nuts. (Minor point.) Sometimes I just find it difficult to hold out for what I know is real and true instead of dating just so I won't be alone. I went out with a woman a few years ago who wasn't right for me, but we still lasted a few months. I cooked for her. (Me! I know!) I had someone to go to the store with. Someone else to consider. Someone who was in a picture I could keep at my desk at work. Someone I got to spend Valentine's Day with (even if it was more cheap jewelry and dinner at Denny's than any romantic comedy I'd ever watched). I know part of the reason we lasted for three months past our one-month prime was because I was finally part of the couples' club; the two of us were invited to more engagements than I knew existed. I liked walking through that golden door and I look forward to gaining access again.

I know that things happen the way they're supposed to. Everything happens for a reason. As I've moved back into working with some regularity and found my way back to making art, I've gained back some of the confidence I'd lost. A sense of self and some money in my bank account are helping me move towards the next steps I'd like to take: getting a girlfriend, buying a house, having little beings to take care of, even if I/we/destiny decides those pitter-patter footsteps belong solely to cats. (Lesbians! Sheesh.) That I am still working my way towards these milestones of adulthood after I'm "supposed" to is something I need to learn to accept as my walk through life. Just because there are no sitcoms I can think of about people who make it through college on their fourth or fifth try and get married as 40 starts peeking over the hill doesn't mean that story is any less valid. While I wait for the next milestones in my journey to arrive, might I remember that it's okay to be alone and that being single is keeping me from doing very little in life.