I was in the doctor’s office for my lady-exam (yep, the same doctor who talked to me about freezing my eggs) and after checking in, I was surprised to see the waiting room a bit fuller than usual for a Friday afternoon in Oakland. I found a seat by the door, so I could have a full view of the room. It took me over a month to get in for this appointment and I hoped they were on schedule. I needed to get back to work within the hour.
Everything in the room seemed to have a yellow tint due to the pale-yellow walls and the non-distinct cushion patterns trimmed in a tan, faux-wood material. Sitting in the row directly in front of me was a couple holding hands. The woman kept stealing glances at her mate while he rubbed his leg repeatedly with his free hand. To my right, there was a woman who looked to be in the same age range as me. She was holding a small cup, the kind that she probably had to fill with urine shortly. She sat with her right leg crossed over her left, bobbing her right foot up and down. When we locked eyes, she quickly looked away. A couple of seats away from her was a heavier-set woman digging angrily through a humongous purse. It was one of those catch-all bags and whatever she was looking for was not trying to be found. She had a crutch propped up next to her and her right foot was in a medical walking boot. Some mints dropped onto the ground in my direction. I jumped up to grab them and return them to her because it would have been a quite a feat for her to put her humongous purse away and get on her crutch just to pick up what had dropped a few feet away from my chair.
Seated next to the door you walk through to start your exams was another woman in matching blue scrubs. The top of the uniform had a tapered fit and she kept checking her watch then running her fingers through her hair.
There was a young woman who looked to be in her early twenties at the check-in desk, talking loud enough for all of us to hear her conversation.
“I can’t ever find anything in here,” she said as she rummaged through her backpack. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and shoved her hair out of her face. The strands that kept repeatedly hanging in her face started out curly but ended straight and had a bit of blonde coloring on the tips.
When she found what she was looking for, she sighed with relief. Her shirt had eased up on her back. She shimmied her hips left to right while tugging on her jeans from each side to pull them up a bit.
“Are you single?” one of the ladies behind the desk asked.
“Uh, single? Well kinda, but not really.”
The woman who had asked the question just stared at her.
She quickly continued, “I mean, I’ve been with my boyfriend for like, nine years and we practically like, live together. We’re totally going to get married one day, so like, I guess you can say we’re almost married. I’m not like, seeing anyone else and like, it’s been nine years. So, we’re like, practically married.”
She paused and took a quick glance behind her.
“Just put whatever.” She let out a slightly nervous sound that sounded like a half-laugh, half-hiccup and pushed her glasses back up her nose.
I shook my head. The woman undoubtedly checked single. Scrolling through my phone, I smirked and thought to myself, nine years don’t mean a thing without that ring. I applauded myself for being silently witty and making a rhyme. There I sat with my leopard-print dress expertly paired with my casual sneakers and a twist-out giving all types of curly perfection in my hair. I secretly eye-rolled then side-eyed the young girl because of her fear of admitting that she was single.
But, before I could ride my high horse for too long, I was quickly reminded of a time when the idea of being single was a weird unknown I avoided at all cost. I had always jumped from boyfriend to boyfriend and if I didn’t have a back-up ready, I stayed in my relationship longer than necessary. I was so used to being boo’d up that I had grown accustomed to having someone by my side or simply a phone call away. I was so hesitant to be by myself that I willingly put myself in compromising situations to avoid it. Some of my relational experiences were a perpetual state of confusion because I couldn’t release what wasn’t mine to begin with.
I was reminded of being a young woman, not quite confident in who she was by herself and therefore, used her relationship as a crutch for not pursuing her dreams and passions. I always had an “I’ll do this or that when I’m married” mentality. I remember ignoring signs that a relationship (or “situationship”) wasn’t healthy for either one of us at the time but reasoned that I at least had someone around to keep me company. I put off new and different experiences because I wasn’t ready to face them by myself.
I was once afraid to be single.
As I sat in the waiting room, my cute dress suddenly started feeling too snug around my arms and it itched around the collar. I noticed some scuff marks on my tennis shoes too. I checked my reflection in my phone camera and my twist-out was looking a bit flat on one side. The smugness I was so quick to deliver had waned.
We live in a culture seemingly made for two’s or more. You walk into a restaurant and tables are set up for two or more people. If you walk in by yourself, they assume you want a seat at the bar or you’re waiting for another part of your party to arrive. Even our jobs, insurance, and research surveys ask for your relationship status to put you in a certain group or standard. When you don’t fit into a neat idea of two or check a certain box, people don’t know what to do with you.
Many of you will be around family and friends this holiday season who are itching to ask you about your dating status. When you don’t give them an acceptable answer, assumptions may be made about you or your state of mind:
Oh, she’s probably too picky.
Are you a lil’ cray, cray?
You may need to lose weight.
You’re waiting for the impossible to happen.
Don’t be so confident. That way, a man will feel more comfortable approaching you.
Maybe if you wore your hair straight, more men would want to talk to you?
Have you tried online dating? I hear you can just swipe right.
I’ve heard it all.
And perhaps the young lady in the office has too. Maybe she’s witnessed firsthand the judgmental comments about other single women and is determined to not fall into the seemingly dreadful single status. Maybe like me, she feared turning into a statistic or stereotype.
She has yet to learn that there is strength in deciding to enjoy your life, no matter your relationship status. Unlike me, she probably hasn’t seen friends or loved ones in sad, boring or destructive relationships that caution her from jumping too quickly into any set of open arms. She might not have come into her own yet or discovered herself as an individual full of new possibilities, dreams, and opportunities.
Instead of judging the young lady, I look back now and empathize with her. Society, and perhaps even her own friends and family, make it seem as if being single is some disease or the worst thing in the world. I wanted to tell her not to care what this waiting room of strangers thought about her. Or how if her would-be-almost-most-likely boyfriend/fiancé was no longer in her life, she would still be amazing, beautiful and strong. I wanted to hug her and explain that single is a state of mind, a label placed to put you in a category that fits into society’s norms. And how being confident in who you are and what you see in the mirror each day is what’s most important.
But, I didn’t say any of those things and I judged her for coming across as afraid to admit her relationship status when I’ve been in those exact same shoes.
I hope she forgives me and comes to learn who she is and what her gifts are in this world.
