“I am so over this single thing”.
This is a text message I received late the other night. The sender is my good friend, Jackie, who would appear — from the outside– to be the epitome of Spinsterliciousness (even though she, technically, isn’t a Spinster). She’s a good-looking chick, a well-paid marketing executive who takes frequent vacations throughout the world, has an active social life and a close relationsip with her family. But I guess that’s mostly external stuff and they don’t quite matter. Correction. Of course they matter. I don’t think Jackie wants to lose any of this, but they can’t fix what’s ailing her.
What’s ailing her is that she is tired, really tired of being single. When she got divorced, I think we all assumed she’d remarry pretty quickly. Now, here it is 12 years later and no husband or husband-to-be on the horizon. And she hates it.
I really didn’t want to give a bunch of platitudes (“don’t worry, he’s out there”; “you’ll find him when you’re least expecting it”; blah blah). First of all, they sound empty and insincere to me. But more importantly, the odds aren’t in her favor. Women-of-a-certain age do get married, but not nearly as easily as men-of-a-certain-age.
And I didn’t want to try to talk her into loving being single because that’s not what she wants. It really made me think. What’s supposed to happen here?
I don’t care to be married but I do wish the prospects were better for my friends who do.
The drawing to the right is by Van Gogh. Supposedly, when he finished it, he appended it with a quote from Jules Michelet’s treatise “La Femme” (1860)
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