Stuff I liked in the last week...

• Zandria lists 14 Things This Single Gal is Thankful For. My favorite is #5: "I'm thankful not only for the nice people I've met through online dating, and the good experiences I've had, but for the people who have hurt me. I believe without a doubt that getting hurt -- and more importantly, realizing that you can survive, overcome, and prosper -- makes you stronger." I can also really relate to #1: "I'm thankful that I've never felt any pressure to be anything but myself, or rush into something I'm not ready for. I've talked to other people and I know this isn't always the case. My family likes me the way I am." Amen.

• Few things bug me as much as people who say they support/oppose something because of X, when the REAL reason is Y, but they don't want to actually admit that because Y would sound too mean/politically incorrect/stupid. Like people who say they oppose gay marriage because it will somehow weaken 'traditional' marriage when the reality is that they are just homophobic bigots. So I LOVE that there's a guy who is trying to get a measure on the California ballot that would ban divorce. It's called The Marriage Protection Act and the website's tagline pretty much says it all: Safeguarding marriage from the evils of divorce (also love the posts "It's your responsibility to teach your child about reality - not the state's" and "Jesus still loves you if you get divorced - just not as much as before").
  

• Speaking of sarcasm: Rachel, of Rachel's Musings, cracked me up, taking pity on all her poor coupled friends who must be so stressed by the holidays when solitude is so elusive for them.

• Via Sex, Lies and Dating in the City's weekly Guy's Story, I discovered Jackie Summer's blog F*cking in Brooklyn: Love as a life or death experience. I spent more time than I meant to reading all his posts. To give you an idea why I'm hooked, this is from a September post, The Case Against Settling:

The choice to stick together and make it work is a conscious one, and one you can make, in theory, with anyone. No matter how much you love (or barely tolerate) someone, there are going to be challenges you will have to face together.If you are going to go thru all of the problems that marriage brings one way or another, why go thru it with someone you don't absolutely adore? Why not go thru all of that with someone you're crazy about?

[Being single] also means I have to put up with no one's bullshit but my own. Sure being single sucks sometimes, but at the end of the day, I'd rather be happy alone than unhappy with someone who's not right for me; I've done that. I know I'm risking living alone for the rest of my life. But life IS risk, and it's only the people who are willing to take real chances who get real rewards.

No one is an island but...

One of the many nice things about visiting my parents is that they still subscribe to an actual, physical newspaper. So every morning, I come downstairs and read the paper at the kitchen table while drinking my coffee, usually with my mom. At home, I read the paper online and I usually just skim the news headlines, only clicking on the full articles that look the most interesting; with the physical paper, I read almost all the sections, including columns and features like Dear Abby (who is really the most incredibly judgmental woman!). I'm not sure why I enjoy it so much but I do.

Anyway, this morning, the San Jose Mercury had a front-page story about a group of elderly Silicon Valley residents, and how they are embracing 'old age'. Much about their stories is inspiring and certainly makes me feel like I've got no excuse at all to be as much of a sloth as I am. But the main reason I'm sharing this here is because there's one section in particular about how many seniors are 'going it alone':

As much as she has missed her husband since he died, Connolly has fully embraced independent living. "I was always taking care of people," she says. "My husband was the absent-minded professor. There were very few times in my life when I just had to think about me, and now I've gotten used to that and it's kind of nice. I can enjoy doing what I want to do without even considering another person. And I'm fine with that."

Her four grown children sometimes are able to show up around the holidays, and sometimes they aren't. "My kids live in four different time zones, and my daughter who lives in San Francisco might as well live in Hawaii because she's so busy," Connolly says. "You can't count on your kids for company or companionship. They have their lives, so I don't depend on them. You need people your own age you can be with."

The next time someone asks you why you don't have kids and alludes to kids taking care of you when you're older, show them this! There was also something that made me think about how the happily-single community seems to focus more on women than men:

So far, that has not involved pairing off with any of the Saratoga center's male residents, who are in such scarce supply they are prized as companions. "It's harder for single women than single men because we haven't been brought up to be that bold and aggressive," Connolly says. "I've found some very nice women friends here that I can do most things with. I can't go dancing anymore, but you can't do everything."

Connolly actually has plenty of company in her solitude. According to a Census Bureau survey in 2003, three-quarters of the Americans 65 or older and living alone were women. Men, however, seek a significant other. At 85 and older, more than half the men were still living with a spouse — frequently not their first one — while only one-eighth of the women had a husband.

The reality is that even if you're in a great relationship, with a wonderful partner, kids, etc., it's important to be OK with being on your own as well, because you never know what's going to happen and where you'll end up in the future. The only guarantee we really have is that the one person you will ALWAYS have for support is YOU.

"Cat lady" vs. Cat Woman

Over the last couple days, the universe seems to be telling me something. First I read Bella DePaulo's post about a 20/20 segment on "Cat Ladies", a documentary about women with cats. As you can imagine (especially if DePaulo is covering it), the segment does not portray such women in a particularly flattering light. Then I finally got around to watching an episode of Private Practice from, I think, two weeks ago (I'm way behind on my crap TV watching), in which one of the main characters, Addison, ends up with the cat of a patient who dies from cancer. Addison is torn about taking the cat, in no small part because she fears being a 'cat lady' and part of the storyline concerns her fear that, like her patient, she will die alone. The title of this post was inspired by a line from one of Addison's colleagues, who wonders why being a 'cat lady' seems sad while Cat Woman is totally hot. That line, in particular, got me thinking about the cat lady stereotype.

And then, yesterday morning, I finally had a cat door installed for my indoor/outdoor cat. I've been meaning to do this for a while but kept putting it off. I was finally motivated to do it because as low-maintenance as my cat already is, I still have to be around to let her in and out. And that means that if she's outside and I'm gone for too long (for example, if I want to stay over at my boyfriend's place), I feel guilty; or if I know I'll be gone, I try to keep her inside, and I feel guilty. So installing a cat door means more freedom for both of us. And that's when it occurred to me that the stereotype of cat ladies as lonely and pathetic makes absolutely no sense. If I were really lonely and pathetic, I wouldn't have a cat; I'd have a dog! No one gets a cat for devoted companionship, unconditional love or any other dependent feeling that one would assume from the cat lady stereotype; cats are way too independent. The reason Cat Woman is hot is because she's like a cat: independent and not giving a crap about what anyone thinks of her. And any woman who is like that is going to prefer having a cat, not a dependent, needy dog who can never be left alone and will piss on your shoes if you don't give it enough attention.

So where the heck did the 'cat lady' stereotype come from?!?!

Compromising is rational

I'm growing my hair out. I've gone back and forth on my hair length a million times and usually what happens is that I start trying to grow it out and then I get so annoyed with it that I decide to just cut it all off (for any readers who don't really understand what I'm talking about: long hair is great if it's long enough to pull up, out of my face and off my neck, but there's always an in-between stage where your hair is long enough to get in the way but too short to put up - that's the point where I usually get impatient and just cut it off). But this time, I'm trying to stick it out and put up with the in-between stage. Why? Because my boyfriend likes long hair (by the way, what is up with guys and long hair?). But the other night, when I made some comment about growing out my hair, my boyfriend said, "Are you doing that because I said I think you'd look good with longer hair?" and my instant, knee-jerk reaction was to say, "No, of course not!" I mean, god forbid I do something for him that I wouldn't choose to do on my own, right? Of course, growing out my hair is a pretty minor thing but it's slippery slope - today, it's my hair; tomorrow, who knows?

I know I'm particularly sensitive about this because in past relationships, I have often suppressed my own needs, trying to be whatever I thought would make the guy like me more. And in a lot of cases, I would convince myself that whatever it was I was doing, I was doing just as much for me as for him (case in point: I actually DID enjoy hiking several miles every weekend but the fact that I haven't done it a single time since Mr. Outdoors Guy moved away tells me something about my real motivation). But over the last several years, being single has allowed me to do exactly what I want to do without worrying about anyone else's opinion or feelings and this allowed me to discover what I truly want/like/need, in a way that I know I couldn't really figure out while in a relationship.

But my knee-jerk reaction to my boyfriend's comment about my hair got me thinking about compromises. One of the core principles of economics is that rational people make decisions by comparing costs and benefits - if the benefits outweigh the costs, then you do it; if the benefits are less than the costs, then you don't. That may sound incredibly obvious but I have often found it a powerful aide in making sense of other people's behavior. If someone does something that I don't understand, I ask myself what benefit could they be getting from that action, or is it that they do not perceive the costs in the same way I do? Usually, this helps me get to a place where, even if I don't agree with the choice, I can at least understand it.

Unsurprisingly, I also tend to apply cost-benefit analysis in my own life, sometimes in ways that I'm sure seem strange to other people. And while it may not sound very romantic, I've found that thinking about my relationship in terms of costs and benefits can be helpful. Like the costs and benefits of cutting my hair - in the past, I've always gotten to a point where the costs of dealing with it outweighed the benefits and so I cut it off. But now, although the costs are basically the same, there is an added benefit, i.e., my boyfriend thinking I look good. And that's enough to tip the scale toward continuing to grow it out. The totally geeky, economist way to put it is that we have interdependent utility functions - his happiness contributes to my happiness and vice versa. I think the trick to not going overboard, to not compromising so much that I feel like I'm only doing something because of him, is having a rock-solid understanding of what MY costs and benefits really are before I start factoring him in. So yeah, I guess you could say that I am growing out my hair "because of him" but that doesn't mean I've suddenly become a spineless, irrational ninny.

Who pays?

I go out with couple friends all the time since my best friends in San Diego are all couples (and by that I mean I am equally good friends with both people). Usually, it's just me and the couple and when the check comes, I pay my share and the guy pays the share for the couple (most of the time, we just figure out what 1/3 of the total is and I pay that). I'm not making any editorial comment about the fact that the guy usually pays, I'm just stating what happens - when people are married, I sort of assume the money is basically coming from the same pot so it doesn't really matter who pays but my impression is that most couples follow the social convention of the man paying. Sometimes someone will pick up the tab for all of us (either me paying for the couple, or them paying for me), especially if it's just drinks. I've never really thought much about the dynamics of paying for stuff in these situations, since when I'm with any of these couples, I feel like we're just three friends hanging out together and the fact that they are a couple is sort of irrelevant.

But a few months ago, I went out to dinner with two couples. I'm friends with both the women and friendly enough with the husbands that it made sense for them to be there (but unlike my San Diego couple friends, I am definitely friends with the women and the guys are 'just' their husbands). These two couples live in the same town and hang out often as a foursome; I was visiting from out of town. When the check came after dinner, the two guys pulled out their wallets and were discussing the check, and I pulled out my wallet and asked what I owed. What struck me was how aware I suddenly was that I was the odd person out. I'm not sure if it was because there were now two women sitting there, each letting her guy take care of the check for her, or because splitting a check five ways is more confusing than splitting it three ways so one of the guys was actually looking at the specific items to figure out what I owed, or simply because I'm not really friends with the two guys I was having the money discussion with. But whatever the reason, it felt odd. And it felt even odder when we then went to a nearby bar and while my two female friends grabbed a table, I went to the bar with the two husbands to get drinks - that is, I got a drink for myself and each of the guys got a drink for himself and his wife. This time, I knew exactly what was odd - with my friends at home, one person would have just bought drinks for everyone.

I'm thinking about this now because this weekend my significant other* and I went on a double date with a friend of his and that friend's wife. Before dinner, my guy bought a round of drinks for everyone; when the dinner check came, my guy and his friend dealt with it; then we went to a club and his friend bought a round for everyone. When it came time to buy another round, I was going to pay but the friend beat me to it. It wasn't a big deal - it was loud in the club, he was closer to the server who brought the drinks and I think he didn't realize I was trying to pay until he had already given money to the server. But the whole evening got me thinking about how the dynamics of paying for stuff is different when you're part of a couple versus when you're single. When it's just me and my guy, he pays a lot of the time; I also pick up the check quite often but when we went out this weekend, I felt like it would have seemed weird if I had tried to pay for my own dinner. But what if we had been out with a single friend, instead of a married couple? In that case, I'm pretty sure I would feel just as weird if I didn't pay for myself.

I'm not sure I really have a point about all this, it's just something I've been thinking about. I've had many conversations with people about paying on a first date (and Zandria has a recent Blogher post that pretty much sums up how I feel about that issue) but I haven't talked with too many people about the dynamics of paying for things once you're in a steady relationship, or when you are out with other people. So I'm curious, for any single readers: when you go out with couples, does paying the bill ever seem awkward? For coupled readers: who pays, and does it matter if you're out with other couples or singles?

* We've been dating for almost four months but I'm still having issues with using the word 'boyfriend' so I don't really know what to call him...

The Marriage-Go-Round

Hat tip to Justin Wolfers for the pointer to an interview with Andrew Cherlin, whose book The Marriage-Go-Roundis now available. The book explores the fact that Americans marry more often than folks in other countries, creating a lot of upheaval in family life. From what I can tell, Cherlin's focus is not so much on whether people should be married or not, but for us to think about the impact that merry-go-round relationships can have on society and particularly kids:

Marriage is important. But “get married” should not be our sole message to Americans. We should spend less time promoting marriage and more time supporting stable caregiving in children’s lives. The two are not the same. Let me explain: I agree that it makes sense to help young unmarried couples who have just had a child together get married if that is their goal. But it makes less sense to encourage a single mother to remarry because she probably won’t marry the father of her children—who she has already broken up with—but rather some other man.We know that the new stepfamily that would be formed would not improve the lives of children. And if that family breaks up, the children would be forced to adjust to yet another change in their households. So I urge us to supplement the “get married”message with another message: “slow down.” See the traffic light of singlehood as yellow rather than green. Don’t rush into having children with a boyfriend/girlfriend or a partner you’ve recently started living with. If you are already single and raising children, choose your next live-in partner or spouse carefully. Introduce your partner gradually to your kids; and don’t try to make him an instant parent.

There are other parts of the interview that sound decidely matrimaniacal (for example, he talks about marriage being "a symbol of personal achievement") but I was fascinated by some of the stats comparing the U.S. to Europe, and his discussion of the conflict between the value Americans put on marriage and the value we put on individualism:

...only in the United States do you find both. So we marry in large numbers—we have a higher marriage rate than most countries. But we evaluate our marriages according to how personally fulfilling we find them. And if we find them lacking, we are more likely to end them. Then, because it’s so important to be partnered, we move in with someone else, and the cycle starts all over again.

Also, we start and end cohabiting relationships at an even higher rate. If you are living with someone outside of marriage, and you are personally unhappy, you are supposed to end the relationship. Our cohabiting relationships are shorter than in any other country. It’s not as though some Americans value marriage and others value individualism. Rather, we carry both ideals in our heads and switch between them without even realizing it.

This rings true for me, especially as I struggle with reconciling my independence with my new relationship. What do you think?

End-of-semester blogging

The list of stuff I've been wanting to write about is getting really long but end-of-semester craziness will prevent me from writing much for another couple weeks so I figured I'd at least do a quick round-up of cool stuff y'all should check out:

- [via Feministe] Interesting article over on Slate about some of the women on the short list for the Supreme Court, pointing out that they are all unmarried and this is apparently an 'issue' for some people (in the comments on the Feministe post, someone points out that one of the women highlighted in the article, Kathleen Sullivan, is a lesbian who wears a wedding ring but is apparently considered 'single' because she can't legally get married - ugh).

- Blogher post about Steve Harvey's book Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man. Not sure if I'll actually pick it up but there was one part that definitely resonated with me:

A man always wants something. Always. And when it comes to women, that plan is always to find out two things: (1) if you're willing to sleep with him, and (2) if you are, how much it will cost to get you to sleep with him... Now by cost, Mr. Harvey means not only financially (dates and such), he means your requirements and standards. If you need certain things before getting physically involved like time, commitment, an emotional bond, some guys will consider that too high of a price to pay and move along but others, the ones that are serious about having a relationship, will have no problem with your price.

Of course, why would you want any of the guys in that first group anyway?

- Zandria has two recent posts I really liked. One is about being lonely, and the assumptions that are often made about singles and loneliness:

Here's a secret: some single women are lonely. Please note, I said "some." Here's another secret: just because a person is married or in a relationship, that doesn't mean they'll never feel lonely.

Amen.

- Zandria's other post that I really liked was about not being a "for now" woman:

...I need the guy to like me just as much as I like him. That’s what clicked for me. If I could see myself being happy with dating only this person, and I knew I wanted to see him more often and get to know him better...but he was telling me that he wanted to keep his options open? He doesn't feel the same way I do. And rather than give it more time and risk being hurt, I decided to move on.

I wish it hadn't taken me ten extra years to get to the same place but better late than never...

Do I have to stay single to prove I am happy being single?

I've started dating someone. It actually has taken me a while, and a lot of false starts, to even write that sentence, partly because I don't want to jinx it (things are definitely still in the beginning stages), but partly because I'm not sure how I feel about admitting that I'm dating someone on a blog that, to this point, has been so much about being happily single (of course, if you're the type that only defines 'single' as 'not married' then nevermind). But after some hard thinking, I realized that I shouldn't need to be single to promote the idea that one can be happily single. And more generally, I think of this blog as being about everyone's right to be happy being whatever the heck they want to be, without other people making a bunch of assumptions about them, and I shouldn't need to be single to champion that.

My hesitation to share the fact that I'm dating is, itself, an indication of how hard I think it is for people to accept that one CAN be happily single. My biggest fear is that people will say, "Oh, I knew Jenn was just in denial all that time she was saying she was perfectly happy being single. She just hadn't met the right guy yet; NOW she's really happy." What crap. Anyone who says that just doesn't get it. I'll probably tackle this in more detail in a future post but the reality is that if I hadn't grown to the point where I was perfectly happy being single, I don't think I'd ever have developed the self-esteem I need to have a truly healthy relationship. God knows my past relationships weren't healthy and I wasn't happy. And I'm already finding that simply being in a relationship at all is bringing out insecurities I thought I had conquered. But whereas past boyfriends made me feel like a needy freak when I voiced those insecurities, I've grown enough to choose to be with someone who helps me confront those insecurities head on, in a mature way. I'm also finding it easier to be more assertive about what I need from him because I know I'm just fine on my own - after all, if this relationship isn't better than staying single (which I already know is pretty darn good), then what's the point?

News flash: I don't hate Valentine's Day!

Valentine's Day is just around the corner, which means that it's time for me to pull out every ounce of patience I've got to tolerate the nonsense that happy singles are about to be subjected to. I'm not talking about the overwhelming commercialism of a day dedicated to romance and the inevitable focus on coupledom. I'm talking about the well-meaning but completely clueless people who will assume that because I'm single, Valentine's Day must make me suicidal. For example, Allison on womenbloom.com (a blog supposedly about inspiring and supporting women) believes that the world is made up of only three kinds of people:

Category 1 is for those for whom Valentine’s Day is a BIG full blown deal they celebrate with their romantic partner. Category 2 includes those who are in a relationship but frankly, can take it or leave it. The third category is for those who get irritated and depressed about Cupid’s Day because it inevitably makes them feel that they are SINGLE LOSERS (emphasis in original) because they don’t have a significant other. It’s a day on which the entire freaking country conspires to make you think you’re an oddball of the highest order because you’re on your own.

Ironically, Allison goes on to say that she knows (and admires) plenty of singles who throw Valentine's parties for themselves and their friends, celebrating the fact that there's plenty of love outside of coupledom. I'm not sure what world Allison thinks these people live on, since they certainly don't fall into one of her 'three kinds of people'.

I get that some singles hate Valentine's Day; heck, I know plenty of coupled people who think it's stupid too. I also know singles who choose to use February 14th to celebrate their singledom - that's the whole idea behind International Quirkyalone Day. And I know singles who are completely indifferent about Valentine's and treat it like any other day. My point is this: don't assume that just because someone is single, they must be miserable this time of year. Personally, I love Valentine's Day - I think it's awesome to have a day specifically devoted to the idea of telling people we love them. When I'm in a relationship, I love to make a big deal about it, being romantic and gushy. But whether I'm in a relationship or not, I look forward to the candy I know my mom is going to send (and the fact that I get a believable excuse for having lots of chocolate in the house), and I usually wish everyone I see a happy Valentine's Day. I think Quirkyalone's description of International Quirkyalone Day sums it up best: "IQD is a celebration of romance, freedom and individuality. It celebrates true romance (as opposed to the fake versions presented to us in reality dating shows), independence, creativity, friendship, and all kinds of love--including love for yourself."

Maybe it's genetic

I'm sure that every family has their quirks and mine is no exception. In particular, there are certain things that always lead someone in the room to say, "It must be genetic" because the behavior is something that other people in the family do too - like the way that I, my mom and my aunt all tend to crack ourselves up with our jokes, even if no one else is really laughing, or the look that my sister and aunts have perfected when someone does something completely stupid (and yes, I realize these things are more nurture than nature but that's not the point).

Along similar lines, it dawned on me recently that I can probably credit my family with my single status, or rather, with being so comfortable about my single status. In my family, being married seems more the exception than the rule. Perhaps even more interesting is that I still have plenty of relatives who are in committed, long-term relationships, just not married. For example, my mom's older sister has been with the same man for over thirty years but they never got married (both are divorced and decided they just didn't want/need the marriage thing). My mom's younger sister got divorced when I was four and raised a son by herself; nowadays, she has more of a social life than I do, with a tight-knit 'tribe' of lifetime friends. I have three cousins on my dad's side who are all in committed relationships but not married; in one case, my cousin was planning to get married, had to postpone the wedding, then got pregnant and although she and her partner are still together (and now with three kids), they never got around to having that wedding.

My own parents have one of those 40-plus-year, rock-solid marriages but I think even that has made me feel more OK about staying single, not less, since I tend to think that unless I can find what they have, what's the point in getting married? It also helps that I get absolutely no pressure from my family whatsoever about my relationship status. I realize this probably puts me in a minority among thirty-something single women (and certainly among Asian-American women!). I'm always a little incredulous when I hear other women talk about the bizarre (to me) things that their families have said to them about 'settling down' or 'finding a nice man', partly because I honestly can't imagine my family ever saying those things to me.

Maybe it's because my family is all in the Bay Area, where the idea of 'non-traditional lifestyles' was practically invented. Or maybe it's genetic. Whatever the reason, I am deeply grateful to have the family that I do...

Crazy cat lady

I've always been a dog person. I've never actually owned a dog but when I was growing up, I SO wanted a dog and I was always bummed we couldn't have one because of my mom's and sister's allergies (though I actually found out many years later that apparently the real reason was my parents couldn't agree on what kind of dog - my mom being a small dog person and my dad being a big dog person - but that's a whole different post). When I was finally living on my own, I kept thinking that I'd get a dog as soon as I got settled somewhere; I distinctly remember that when I got my current job eight years ago, I thought that I needed to find an apartment that would let me have a dog, or buy a house as quickly as possible so I could have one.

So although I've never owned one, I've definitely always thought of myself as a dog person. I definitely was NOT a cat person. Cat's have never liked me and I've never particularly liked them. What's to like about these weird animals that seem to think they are doing you a favor if they deign to look in your direction? But five years ago, I somehow became a cat owner. I'm still not quite sure how it happened. Well, I mean, I know how it happened - my sleeping partner at the time was going on sabbatical and couldn't find anyone to take care of his cat and was about to take her to the shelter so being a complete sucker, I said I'd take care of her for the six months he would be gone. And at first, it wasn't that big a deal. The upside of cats' notorious aloofness is that they are incredibly low maintenance. You pretty much just feed them and scoop out their litter box once a day (and if you have an outdoor cat, not even that). I didn't really pay much attention to her. But slowly, day by day, she began to grow on me. She would come sit on the couch with me while I was watching T.V., and then she started sleeping on my bed. She would bump my legs as I was sitting at my computer until I'd pick her up and then she'd just sit there in my lap. Somehow, by the time her former owner came back to town, she had become 'mine'.

What's particularly weird is that other cats seem to know that I'm now 'a cat person'. It used to be that if I encountered cats in other people's homes, they ignored me, just as I ignored them. Now, it's like they can sense something - if I walk into a house with cats, they will make a beeline for my legs. And my cat is curled in my lap as I write this, purring away.

So given my cat history, I loved a recent post from Bella DePaulo, about the stereotype of singles and their cats:

I wonder why it is that single people - women especially - are so often cast as cat-crazy. Is it a way of attributing a cat-like caricature to singles - say, aloof and unsociable? Or maybe even a more flattering portrait of cool and unruffled independence? By itself, the perception of singles as cat-people (or pet-people) doesn't bother me. What does rub me the wrong way is the interpretation that is sometimes offered for the supposed link between being single and having a pet - that singles have pets as "compensation" for not having a spouse.

In the comments, Becky points out that dogs simply require a lot more time and work: "So it's not a crazy lonely cat lady, it's a person with a full time job and social obligations without kids to keep them home... if you have control over it, a cat is often a more practical and humane choice in a pet if you are a busy single." That is certainly the view I have come to have. I love that I can go away for the weekend and not worry about what I'm going to do with my cat. If I get caught up at the office, or decide to spend the night somewhere at the last minute, I know my cat will be fine. She's still happy to see me and still keeps me company when I'm just hanging out at home but there's no guilt when I leave either. I still love dogs and I stop to pet every dog I see on the street. But I've come to think about dogs the same way I think about kids: they're adorable and I love to play with them at other people's homes, but I certainly don't want to give up my life to have one of my own. So go ahead and call me a crazy cat lady - I'll just take a lesson from my cat and ignore you...

In praise of singletude

I started the week with all kinds of good intentions to write something about it being Unmarried and Single Americans Week. Unfortunately, this semester is seriously kicking my butt so the week is over but I still wanted to take at least a few minutes to pay tribute to the fact that according to the Census Bureau, over 40% of the population 18 and over is unmarried (that includes never married, widowed or divorced). I thought it was interesting that the week was originally National Singles Week, intended "to celebrate single life and recognize singles and their contributions to society" but the Census website says it is now generally known as 'Unmarried and Single Americans Week' to acknowledge that "many unmarried Americans do not identify with the word “single” because they are parents, have partners or are widowed." Which leads me to ponder once again: what does 'single' mean to you?

I've also been thinking about the term single because I've come across some twists on the word that strike me as cool attempts to de-stigmatize singlehood. There's obviously Quirkyalone, the inspiration for the title of this blog. I also like Singular, which is the name of a new magazine for singles in L.A. But my favorite is singletude, as in Singletude: A Positive Blog for Singles. The rest of the tagline reads: "a positive, supportive blog about life choices for the new single majority. It's about dating and relationships, yes, but it's also about the other 90% of your life--family, friends, career, hobbies--and flying solo and sane in this crazy, coupled world. Singletude isn't about denying loneliness. It's about realizing that whether you're single by choice or by circumstance, this single life is your life to live." Amen to that.

Friendships with parents

It’s a bit of a cliché that parents, particularly new parents, can’t talk about anything but their kids. I feel truly fortunate that my closest friends all seem to recognize this and they make an effort not to fit the stereotype. On more than one occasion, someone has said to me, “OK, I’ve talked enough about the baby, tell me what’s going on with you.” Of course, part of the reason I'm friends with these people is precisely because they are the sort who would say this type of thing and ironically, that also means these are the people I'm most willing to listen to go on and on about their kids (or, if they really are going overboard, that I'm most comfortable telling them straight out that I'd like to change the subject).

But recently, it also occurred to me that there is a big difference between my friends talking about their kid, and them talking about being a parent. To be honest, I’ve only got so much patience for the former because, in many cases, I don’t actually know the kid very well and who wants to hear endless stories about someone they don’t know? It’s not like the stories most parents tell about their kids are all that interesting in their own right (unless, of course, you’re Bill Cosby). But I realized that when my friends talk more about what it’s like for them to be a parent – how they’re coping with the new schedule, whether she wants to go back to work full-time or not, how relieved he is that the kid isn’t a screamer – that means I’m actually finding out more about them.

I should say that, contrary to the common stereotype of women who choose not to have kids, I do actually like kids (I don't think I'm very good with them but that's sort of a different issue). So I may have a higher tolerance for kid-related talk than most single, child-free women. But even if I didn't like kids, I'd like to think that I'd still be interested in talking to my friends about what is going on in their lives. After all, I have certainly not liked some of the people my friends have chosen to date and I've still been willing to listen to them go on and on about those relationships for hours. But I think the key is focusing on my friends, encouraging them to talk about themselves, which will naturally include a lot of talk about being a parent, but doesn't necessarily have to be just about their kid.

Related posts:
Baby boom

Community for the Single Woman

I've mentioned before that many single women actually enjoy larger and stronger communities than many coupled people and I know that for me, building a strong community is a conscious priority. But I admit that I have also sometimes lamented that doing so requires such a concerted effort; somewhere in my brain, I think couples must have it easier because they don't have to do anything, they have an automatic support system, even if it is only a community of two. Of course, I know that good relationships take effort too, though it's a different type of effort. At any rate, I have often wondered if other singles also struggle with this, with finding the energy to deepen relationships and build stronger ties with people, absent a romantic relationship, or if it's just me. So I found it particularly interesting to read a recent Blogher post asking are academics the loneliest professionals? since part of my 'is it just me' wondering has included wondering if it has something to do with my profession. Academics spend a lot of time alone - even if you have co-authors on papers, much of the actual research and writing is done on your own, and even if you are at a large university, there may be few opportunities to interact with colleagues outside your own department. I have often listened to my non-academic friends talk about their interactions and social outings with co-workers and been a bit envious. On the other hand, I've also listened to their stories about bosses or co-workers from hell and been exceedingly grateful for my job so I do understand that it cuts both ways! But I do wonder if it is easier for people in other occupations to find lasting friendships through work. Anyone care to enlighten me?

What does 'single' mean to you?

I'm always curious about how and why people define 'single' the way they do. That is, I think that for most people, when they meet someone who identifies themselves as single, that means something specific, but what it means varies from person to person. To me, it just means not being in a serious relationship; I guess I equate it with 'available'. But I know that for some, it distinctly means 'unmarried' (so for example, my aunt would be considered single because even though she has been living with the same man for about 30 years, she never married him). To others, it means NEVER married - apparently, Dear Abby falls in that camp, since she told a divorcee that calling herself single would not be appropriate. I'm guessing she'd say the same to someone who was widowed. As with many 'rules' of etiquette that haven't kept up with the times, that bugs me. If someone wants to call themselves single, who in the world has the right to tell that person he or she is 'wrong'?

But what I find particularly interesting about the multiple definitions of 'single' is that it means single women have a choice about how to identify themselves and, to me, that choice can be telling. That is, single is uniquely a state of being, in and of itself, whereas divorced, widowed and unmarried are all associated with states of not being (i.e., they are all states of not being married). And I think that people who aren't comfortable with their singleness are more likely to avoid identifying themselves as being in the single state, choosing instead to associate with the married state. So if you choose to call yourself single, when you could just as easily say 'divorced' or 'widowed' or 'unmarried' or whatever your options are, that seems to convey two things: 1) you are not currently married, whatever your past status might have been, and 2) you are OK with that. Similarly, I think that people who don't want single women to call themselves single are partly conveying their discomfort with women who are OK with being single. Does that ring true to anyone else?