Although federally recognized as Washington's Birthday, the third Monday in February is colloquially referred to as "Presidents' Day." Last night I wondered if there was any more significance to this holiday than literally celebrating Presidents of the US.
There is not. "Presidents Day was informally coined in a deliberate attempt to use the holiday to honor multiple presidents and is virtually always used that way today." Well fuck that noise. Do a bunch of super powerful white dudes (Obama notwithstanding) really need another day (beyond, you know, every day) for us to celebrate them? Nope. Dear readers, I am reclaiming Presidents' Day - for all the single ladies, everywhere. Maybe we'll call it Madame President's Day. More on that in a minute. But first...I've been thinking. Our country pretty actively discriminates against single people. I want to be very clear that I'm not comparing being single in America to racism, homophobia, classism, sexism...any of the other identity markers that facilitate oppression in this country. I would not tackle those things in a whimsical blog post on my dating (or now it seems, not-dating) blog. I was also just chatting with a dear friend who rightly pointed out that being in a relationship is not always rainbows and sunshine, either. We're all humans, whose lives and mental health and emotional wellness ebb and flow. But listen, I do think singles discrimination is a real thing. A few ways single people might experience discrimination. Married people get...
This Atlantic article from 2013 calculated - conservatively - that over her lifetime a single woman might, through taxes, social security, housing and healthcare, pay more than a million dollars extra for being single. A MILLION F'ING DOLLARS. All of those things can make being single feel like a punishment. Like choosing to be single is not a good or legitimate state of being. It's earthly purgatory, where you're just waiting to become coupled and reap the emotional and fiduciary rewards. That shit affects you! Like, here's an example: I used to feel a ton of internal pressure to take on more work so that married or coupled people could go home to be with their spouses and families. Let me reiterate: that was INTERNAL pressure. No one told me to do that. I work with wonderful, kind people. I just believed that my life as a single person was less valuable than theirs. That belief, and the self-loathing resentfulness it caused, threatened to damage my relationships with close friends. I was kind of an asshole. My friends, thank sweet baby Jesus, are not assholes, and believe my life does have worth. We overcame. But I wondered what other impacts these messages about being single were having on me, maybe without me realizing it. So I decided that today - Madame President's Day - I would celebrate me and myself. No apologies. And please, if your response to that declaration is a paternal "good for her!" and a strong urge to pat me on the head, please check yourself. Is that a manifestation of SINGLES DISCRIMINATION? (Or, honestly, some kind of weird sexism? I am a grown-ass woman, there will be no head patting.) Here's what I did: I got up and made myself fancy brunch. Coffee with Baileys, bacon, omelette, sweet potatoes. I watched the SNL 40th anniversary special and laughed out loud, and then I watched the newest episode of The Walking Dead and talked to the characters the same way I would have if I were watching with someone else ("Oh, Sasha, nooooo!). I put on my new favorite shirt and went out into the world to sip tea and read. I bought myself some fro-yo, and I sat at the big, comfy corner table. I walked two miles and listened to Pitbull the whole time. I came home and opened a bottle of Cabernet I'd been saving for a special occasion. I AM A SPECIAL OCCASION. Then I dropped my favorite bath bomb into my tub and watched the water turn pink around me. Now I shall finish this post and watch some Beyonce videos. Happy Madame President's Day, y'all.
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No, really, I mean it. Happy Valentine's Day!
By all accounts, this day should be terrible for me. I'm home alone, sick with probably bronchitis. It's mid-afternoon and I've done nothing but watch TV and read half a chapter of a book. I'm starting to feel a little better, but the odds that I leave this house sit at about 1%. I still have 2 cans of soup. But I've also got no reason to lie, not after the relatively depressing (if true) Children of the Dirt Post. So here's all of my honesty: I'm glad my friends and family have love in their lives. Some people got married last week; I think some others are getting married today. A couple of people got engaged. That's good. New relationships, deepening relationships, changing relationships. I want to live in a world where people love each other, and work hard to understand each other and make things better. Love is at the center of that. All kinds of love. And I have love in my life. Valentine's Day is an invented holiday, anyhow. Why can't I choose to focus on what I do have, rather than what I lack? Isn't everyone just trying to the the best they can with what they have? You know, I didn't even see that much gushy stuff on Facebook. I hope people are not avoiding Facebook because of me, or people like me. Or maybe I don't -- it's kind of nice that folks out there might really consider what makes other people feel hurt or sad on a day like today. Not just me -- there are lots of other people out there like me. But I'll say it again, because it's the truth: I'm good. C'mon, I just dropped a hundo on books and scheduled another Stitch Fix. #ilovemyself If you listen to the podcast Invisibilia, you might have heard their recent episode on categories. If you don't want it to be spoiled, stop reading! Go listen to the last 10 minutes or and then come back. Actually just go listen, it's good.
Did you listen? Okay. I laughed. Did you? I laughed because for many years I have thought Plato's version of Aristophanes was full of shit. From a modern political perspective I appreciate the story's ancient inclusiveness, but I must reject the notion that I am somehow incomplete because I am un-partnered. That I'm destined to wander the earth in search of my other half. Sorry Mika and Hedwig. I don't buy it. If Plato's descriptions of love are true, then what the fuck is wrong with me? Why does my partner remain elusive? Am I just…broken? This is why Simon Rich's interpretation was so refreshing. He gave me a place to fit in. I am a child of the dirt. Thank god for wine and art. I laughed, but it's still an unsettling framework. If I let myself take solace in constructing my reality around Simon's description, then I'm not just lonely. I'm alone. I keep hearing the last line of the podcast, the one Alix repeated over and over. Because there's nobody for them. Not anybody in the world. I don't really believe that. Not really. But I understand the compulsion Simon felt to write about children of the dirt. Sometimes, I feel like I'm being slowly destroyed by hope. At first I couldn't quite name the reason I needed to turn off the online dating sites. I just felt frustrated and exhausted and knew I needed to get away. I've started to make sense of it now. I need to mourn. The truth is, I didn't want to "succeed." I wanted to find someone. I mean, I am not exactly mad that I met a goal. I did learn a lot about myself -- all the things I wrote back in January are true, and good. I just… I think deep down, until #15, I believed I could make love happen. A little bit, I thought The Secret might be true. Turns out, there is no secret. So I need to believe something new. Because while I am open to the possibility that love might happen for me, I can't hope that it's going to happen. Hope is killing me. |
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