For many of us, it’s that time of year again.
Time to sift through the invitations that seem to be arriving daily and by the dozen, that “cordially” invite us to the “joyous occasion” where Friend A and Friend B “become one for eternity.”
Le Sigh.
Don’t get me wrong, I am overjoyed my friends have found a person they enjoy enough to try and make a go at life with, I don’t even mind blowing $500-$800 a pop to go smile on the sidelines (and occasionally DJ for free). What I do mind is that once I arrive at “the joyous occasion” people think that because I am in my late twenties and alone at a wedding that I should spend the reception contemplating where exactly my life took such a tragic turn. I end up treated either like a person with a terminal, possibly contagious disease or like an infant incapable of selecting her entree (“Oh, dear we just assumed you wanted the salmon, it’s lighter you know.”).
I never played house. I played solo frontier woman (thank you Laura Ingalls Wilder). I never played with baby dolls. My Barbies had their synthetic manes shorn with my safety scissors so they would be unencumbered when they led countries and social movements.
But even given my seemingly innate disinterest of the “traditional” path of female adulthood, the fact that I am in my late twenties, a successful graduate student without a child or significant significant other baggage is nothing short of a miracle.
Girls from the neighborhood I grew up in did NOT stay single and/or childless. 80% of my female friends from high school had a child either during or within a year of graduation, the rest shortly afterwards. All of them were paired up in relationships of fair to poor health in that time period. Even in my own family, I am the only female in my immediate, extended family to make it to eighteen without a child. The only one to make it past twenty-five unmarried. The only one to go to college. The only one to pursue a graduate degree. The only one to travel abroad. The only one to live more than twenty minutes away from her mother.
Marriage and children at an early age are not the death of ambition and achievement but they do make it 500% more difficult to pursue one and succeed at the other.
Former Justice O’Connor used to give this informal talk about
how she didn’t understand why some women “choose” between marriage and children and a career. She, of course, was an attorney before the age of email and blackberries. When legal work started and ended within a sustainable time frame (also, she was wealthy and that does tend to make the work of running a home, that at that time would have been her responsibility) and then when she was on the court and technology began to stretch the hours, her children were grown. In this talk it was implied that she did not respect the women who “chose” their career as much as she did those who tried to “have it all.”
This idea of “choice” pretends to be empowering but is really just misleading and creates yet another thing women can be told they failed at achieving. If “having it all” was so easy wouldn’t 85% of women choose that? And yet we all know quite a few attractive, smart, funny women in their 30’s and 40’s who want to get married/be in a relationship but who also love their demanding careers and despite their efforts the two never merged.
Why?
Because the weddings, children and the happily ever after (or happily ever right now) path is NOT a choice. It’s a crap shoot. Maybe you are lucky enough to meet that person who can read your mind from across a room… and maybe you don’t. Sure you can increase your odds of success by making yourself as attractive (and funny, maybe smart, depending on the lure you intend to cast See: Any Real Houswives show) as you can afford, go out and pound the pavement (both literal and Internet) but ultimately, it’s a gamble. And just like poker, some people don’t care enough about the prize to sit at the table for hours, wasting time, drinking watered down cocktails, spinning their wheels in hope Lady Luck gives them the jackpot.
I never thought very highly of the prize. Even less so when I realized how much time is wasted worrying and planning a “winning” strategy. Now, I can barely be bothered to think about it because frankly, I have enough people in my life for whom I am responsible. One more might makes my head explode.
So, when I show up to my friend’s wedding, alone, in my best party dress, ready to celebrate, enjoy the steak, maybe to hop behind the 1s and 2s for the duration of the evening and I am treated either like a malformed, Tragic Spinster or a hell brew sipping Jezebel, it irks. My life is fine. I am fine. Go help out the female guest who has been giving the best man the side eye all night. I’m attractive, smart and funny if I wanted to be here with a date or to nail the best man in the coat room, I promise, I could handle it all by myself.
So, Resist the urge to pat me and my comrades in arms on the head when, after repeated badgering, we not-so-calmly inform you we’re not interested in changing seats so we can be closer to newly divorced Uncle Gerry but that yes, we’d like a slice of cake AND a chocolate covered strawberry.
I promise, if you don’t leave me be this summer, I WILL ignore your repeated requests for a Taylor Swift mash-up in favor of the three raunchiest songs on my approved list.
