Over the last few months (okay more than that) people have asked me why I haven’t written any blog posts. And honestly, I didn’t have a real answer. Most of my blog had been focused on dating and what it was like to be single. And at some point last year, I decided that that subject matter was boring and I had nothing else to offer on the topic. When I started the blog I had been in relationships my entire adult life and had no concept of how dating worked and what online dating apps were. So when I started the blog, readers were able to gawk at me experiencing this whole brand new dating landscape. Somewhere along the way it became boring. I had nothing else to say. I don’t like dating. I don’t like dating apps. And my blog had become stale and I began to feel unmotivated. There are only so many ways to say: “dating is trash, y’all”.
That said, starting the blog was good thing. I worked out my anxiety around dating. I wrote openly for the first time about being a sexual assault victim (I hate the term “survivor”. Sorry I just do). I discussed my feelings about feminism and racism. It was a haven of cathartic energy as I worked through the obliteration of my career and starting over from scratch. But I realized that in terms of my perspective on being a single woman in her mid-30s in the 21st-century, I had said everything I needed to say.
I got overwhelmed because people told me they enjoyed the blog and certain people even said they were inspired by it. (I know. Those people are super crazy, right?) Frankly, I was just telling my truth. My life had imploded and I was just trying to pick up the pieces. I wasn’t putting on a show. I wasn’t trying to be some inspiration. I just needed an outlet. And I’m glad it resonated with people. But now four years later, I have no clue what to write about. I’m just as much of a mess as I was four years ago but now I’ve run out of material. Well I’m a “first world mess”. (New blog title, guys?) I can’t decide whether matcha tea is really a thing. I spend way too much money on concerts. I put no effort towards dating. I still shop at Urban Outfitters even though I turn 36 next month. (I know.)
If I’m honest, I’ll just come out and say it: I didn’t expect to be single this long. I thought that I’d be single for about six months and I’d be back in another relationship immediately. That’s how my life had always gone and I kind of expected that to be the way it would always go. I look up and four years later I’m in the same place. And it’s hard to find motivation when not much has changed in your personal life in four years. Sure, I’d traveled, made new friends, gone to lots of concerts, and started wearing black jeans and combat boots like it was 1992. However, my foray into “My So-Called Life” cosplay is not exactly fodder for blog posts (or is it?)
I always expected that this blog would seamlessly transition from “Singleton in the city” type musings to an overly happy (and slightly annoying) mommy blog where I’d wittily muse about my amazing and super cute kids and post food recipes. But, alas, that is not what happened. It’s February 2018 and in the next month I’m turning 36. I’m very single and very childless. And there is not one bone in my body that ever expected this. And frankly I’m ready to be honest about it. I’ve tried for four years to make every pithy witty joke about being a single girl. But, guys, I’m pissed. I’m supposed to be a mommy blogger right now.
The hardest thing for me is coming to grips with the fact that over the past four years I’ve learned so much about myself as a feminist and as a woman but I’m still pretty damn angry that I’m not a stinking mommy blogger with a tall husband with cute kids with quirky names. Guys. YOU KNOW I’D HAVE KIDS WITH QUIRKY NAMES. HAVE YOU MET ME?
I’m happy that I am independent and I have my own career. I’m happy that I’ve been able to find my own friends and my own voice. I’m happy that over the last four years I’ve been able to cultivate a sense of self that I didn’t have before. I’m surprise that I’ve been so calm and at peace with being single. And I will continue to be single until I find somebody who I feel is worthy of being with me. Further I’ve made peace with the idea that it’s important and worthwhile for me to seek out a good partner for me not just jump at the first option. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m pissed and disappointed.
One thing that I realized over the last few months is it’s okay to be pissed. I used to think that the best way of living my life was to ignore disappointment and brush it aside as wasted energy. I now realize that it’s okay to acknowledge disappointment and anger. Honestly, it’s merely a reminder that I have goals and dreams for my life. Some of those goals and dreams won’t come true and potentially at some point they might. It’s not weakness to acknowledge that I want a family and I’m pissed I don’t have one. I thought if I pretended I didn’t care I’d be less disappointed. But disappointment is lame that way. You can ignore it but it’s still there. Much like Kathie Lee Gifford. It’s been a constant in my life and I can’t seem to shake it free.
I’m pissed and disappointed. And that’s okay. Perhaps the dream of blogging about Leopold and Berkeley will have to wait for now. (See. I told you.) But acknowledging that I do have a dream and it’s not happening for me right now is okay. It doesn’t make me weak. I doesn’t make pathetic. It just makes me human.