Single By Accident

I recently read two articles, both through Salon.com, about being single and celibate. The first one, was written by a woman who is now in her 50s and has been celibate for fifteen years. She's OK with it, but after reading this article, I wasn't. The second article was obviously a plug for a blog-turned-book which I would name here except I don't want to seem like I condone her message which seems to be in-your-face-sexlessness. The Rules with thug-like chastity shrouded in moral superiority. Both made me quirk an eyebrow and scurry off to talk to all my single and celibate friends. To which we all had the same reaction: Umm, this isn't something to be rah-rah'ing about. It's depressing, and lonely, and really, really hard. And it's not really a choice for a lot of us.

Let me start off by saying that I'm pretty old fashioned. I'm single therefore I am celibate. I know, I know. I could out tonight and get some. Blahblahblah. But I can't. It's just not in me. I'm uptight and I'm thinking that I emit prudery at a high decibel level, and men can hear it. Whatever the reason, I'm not getting dates and therefore I'm not getting anything else either. Now, there are people that I know who believe that I am single by design. And my therapist would make the argument that they are right thought only on a subconscious level. But I'd like to state with full consciousness that I would prefer not to be single. My status as a Miss is an accident and not a very happy one at that. I would like to state for the record that...

...I started off this way; I didn't opt in.
...I never had that movie moment where I had to decide between staying in Connecticut with that good-hearted, small-town guy or moving to the big city to chase my dream.
...I never had that not-good-enough boyfriend that I held onto out of fear of loneliness, but put the breaks on before he popped the question.

In fact, my dating life is pretty pathetic. I'd get into it, but why bother. Most of you know that I've been single -- like really single -- for the majority of my adult life. And with every passing year, it feels harder and harder to get out of the habit of being this way. Not that I don't think about it constantly.

My single gal pals and I are always talking about not dating and not having sex and how we could get to do both. It doesn't help that I know my biological clock is now ticking down, and while my married friends keep telling me I have time, they're kinda lying. I don't. Unlike all those other things in life that I eventually got around to doing much later, after-the-fact, procreating actually has an expiration date (and, to be clear, I'm not as blase about it as I might appear). Do I want my married friends to agree with me and start counting down my good breeding years with me? No. Do I want my sister to offer me her womb (again)? No. My point is, it's difficult to be in this position and to take full responsibility for the fact that I might not get married and I might not have kids and it's my own damn fault. Do I regret choices I have made? Sure. I look back at pictures of me as a teenager or in my 20s, or even three years ago and think, "Why did I think I was fat? Why didn't I think I was pretty enough? Why didn't I USE that?" (And as a friend said to me recently, "You're going to hit 40 and look at pictures of yourself now and wonder the same thing...", but I digress.) I think about the guys I really did have a chance with, but talked myself out of. It's all disappointing and humbling. And kind of stupid. I want to shake the shoulders of my younger self and say, "Cut it out, and get out there. You can do this! You have so much more than you think you do." But I can't. And I have a hard time looking in the mirror and doing it now. I am who I am and sometimes it's hard getting over myself.

When I read articles like these, I don't believe that the authors are affirmed or as confident in their deliberate decisions as they come off. I wonder what the underlying subtext really is. Low libido? Indifference? Scarred by abuse or suffering from father abandonment issues? Because as far as I know, most people don't choose to be in bed alone. Humans, by design, are pack animals. We all want to be love and cared for. And sex on a regular basis is highly desirable, thank-you-very-much. (I mean, there's a reason why people with sex lives live longer than people without them.) I don't believe that you can substitute the love of your family and friends for the love -- emotional and physical -- of a lover. I think, for most of us singletons, we're single by accident and we'd really like these writers to stop feeding into this belief that its a choice.