{"id":16349,"date":"2020-01-01T09:00:42","date_gmt":"2020-01-01T14:00:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sasee.wpenginepowered.com\/?p=16349"},"modified":"2024-03-26T15:08:45","modified_gmt":"2024-03-26T19:08:45","slug":"whats-wrong-with-you","status":"publish","type":"essay","link":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/essay\/whats-wrong-with-you\/","title":{"rendered":"What\u2019s Wrong with You?"},"content":{"rendered":"

You see, I\u2019m single \u2013 single and 37. And the thing is, as crazy, sad, or hard to believe as it may sound, I\u2019m happy \u2013 fulfilled, even.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n

Juggling paper towels, toothpaste, and a six-pack of Pellegrino (or was it a box of tampons and a bag of fun-sized Snickers? I can\u2019t remember exactly what time of the month this took place), I walked up to the cash register at Walgreens \u2013 a store I patronize roughly 27 times a week since it\u2019s across the street from my apartment. Irene \u2013 a 60-something cashier whom I\u2019d come to think of as my Walgreens grandma over the years \u2013 greeted me with a big smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, dear,\u201d she said, as I plopped my items on the counter. \u201cYou brought your baby with you today!\u201d I followed Irene\u2019s eyes down to my dog, standing next to me. I know, I know. Who takes their dog to Walgreens? Well, I live in Los Angeles, where leashing up your pooch to run errands with you comes as naturally as grabbing your purse. For the record, I don\u2019t refer to my dogs as my babies, but when Irene does, I can\u2019t help but smile. So, I let it slide.<\/p>\n

We exchanged chit-chat as Irene rang up my items. Then, she stopped. Making direct eye contact, she asked, \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with you? Don\u2019t you want a husband and real babies?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Irene, I don\u2019t want a husband and real babies. If I wanted a husband and real babies, I\u2019d have a husband and real babies. Now what\u2019s that you were saying about a coupon for Double-Stuffed Oreos?\u201d is what I should\u2019ve said. But I didn\u2019t. Instead, something more akin to a whimper fell out of my mouth.<\/p>\n

You see, I\u2019m single \u2013 single and 37. And the thing is, as crazy, sad, or hard to believe as it may sound, I\u2019m happy \u2013 fulfilled, even. However, as my dog and I walked home from Walgreens that day, Irene\u2019s words ricocheting through my brain, I didn\u2019t feel happy. Perhaps, in part, because she\u2019d begun her inquiry with, \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with you?\u201d Nothin\u2019 like those four little words to send a gal into a, \u201cI\u2019m doing life wrong,\u201d tailspin.<\/p>\n

From 19 to 31, I lived life as a serial monogamist, with five relationships during those years. In that time, I fell in love, got my heart broken, did the heart breaking, got engaged, broke it off, compromised, cohabitated, fought, cried and laughed. And for the past six years, though technically single, I\u2019ve spent a dizzying chunk of time on the dating hamster wheel. I\u2019ve had first dates and tenth dates. I\u2019ve stayed with guys for four months and others, only until last call. I\u2019ve ghosted, been ghosted and both sent and received the awkward, \u201cI\u2019m just not that into you,\u201d text. I was even proposed to by a guy I hadn\u2019t seen in nine months \u2013 a seemingly friendly catch-up dinner that quickly morphed into the most uncomfortable evening of my life.<\/p>\n

And I have zero regrets. I value each of these experiences \u2013 no matter how fraught or fleeting some might have been. I\u2019m not bitter, jaded, or cynical. I love love. Ask any of my married friends \u2013 I\u2019m always the guest or bridesmaid conspicuously shedding tears of joy. I mean, if it weren\u2019t for the possibility of falling in love and finding my person, do you really think I\u2019d keep climbing my old, tired arse back onto that dating hamster wheel? Trust me \u2013 it requires deep-rooted motivation to stay the course when the last guy you had a drink with ended up sporting a prison record and spent fifteen minutes justifying this based on the fact he\u2019d only committed a white-collar crime. Or when a 47-year-old man, after just three dates, walks in on you while you\u2019re peeing and asks you not to close the bathroom door because he doesn\u2019t like \u201cthese emotional walls you\u2019re putting up.\u201d<\/p>\n

So, to answer your question, Irene, what\u2019s wrong with me? Well, plenty, I\u2019m sure. I mean, who spends 37 years on this planet without acquiring a few scrapes and scars\u2026and night terrors? But my unmarried status isn\u2019t one of them. Do I want lifelong love and partnership? Of course. I\u2019d say the vast majority of us do, in one form or another. As for babies, that\u2019s a different story. But yes, I want to find my person who\u2019ll walk hand-in-hand beside me through life\u2019s ups and downs. I just haven\u2019t freaking found him yet. Maybe I never will. Perhaps I\u2019m too picky and he doesn\u2019t even exist. Though, my history tells me that isn\u2019t the issue. The thing is, I\u2019ve created a happy little life for myself \u2013 filled with friends, dogs, dates, work that I love, and endless possibilities. Why would I want to risk toppling my world for just a husband? If and when I walk down the aisle \u2013 more likely a sandy beach with my parents on FaceTime because I\u2019ve eloped \u2013 I want to know I\u2019m walking towards the right person. And I don\u2019t think there\u2019s anything wrong with that \u2013 or, with me, for waiting for that.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

You see, I\u2019m single \u2013 single and 37. And the thing is, as crazy, sad, or hard to believe as it may sound, I\u2019m happy \u2013 fulfilled, even. Juggling paper […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_tec_requires_first_save":true,"_gspb_post_css":"","_EventAllDay":false,"_EventTimezone":"","_EventStartDate":"","_EventEndDate":"","_EventStartDateUTC":"","_EventEndDateUTC":"","_EventShowMap":false,"_EventShowMapLink":false,"_EventURL":"","_EventCost":"","_EventCostDescription":"","_EventCurrencySymbol":"","_EventCurrencyCode":"","_EventCurrencyPosition":"","_EventDateTimeSeparator":"","_EventTimeRangeSeparator":"","_EventOrganizerID":[],"_EventVenueID":[],"_OrganizerEmail":"","_OrganizerPhone":"","_OrganizerWebsite":"","_VenueAddress":"","_VenueCity":"","_VenueCountry":"","_VenueProvince":"","_VenueState":"","_VenueZip":"","_VenuePhone":"","_VenueURL":"","_VenueStateProvince":"","_VenueLat":"","_VenueLng":"","_VenueShowMap":false,"_VenueShowMapLink":false,"_tribe_blocks_recurrence_rules":"","_tribe_blocks_recurrence_description":"","_tribe_blocks_recurrence_exclusions":"","footnotes":""},"essay_type":[46],"essay-category":[],"class_list":["post-16349","essay","type-essay","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","essay_type-features"],"blocksy_meta":[],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay\/16349","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/essay"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16349"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay\/16349\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16349"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"essay_type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay_type?post=16349"},{"taxonomy":"essay-category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay-category?post=16349"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}