It is the 21st century and yet I find it baffling how ‘bad’ it is to be a single 20 something in the developed world. Something about ‘being single’ seems to make people (and by people, I mean almost exclusively the fairer sex) cringe.
It seems to stems from more then just the condescending looks one receives from those desperately happy couples, the sympathetic pats and the empty advice of “just hang on in there”.
Nor does it seem to be in fear of nosy questioning relatives. We are sold the idea from childhood of the perfect life. We grow up, we get married, we have two hideously cute children and then we retire and spend every waking moment from then after gardening and nagging our other half.
This fear of ending up alone seems to begin quite early on.
I choose to believe this is why we seem obsessed with our search for love or even more disgustingly “The One” to fill the void.
However, I personally choose to rebel against the norm of society and embrace the state of singled-dom which I am now so very well acquainted with. The freedom to be myself without any kind of limitation. To selfishly manage my time and express myself in any way in which I desire. To enjoy the freedom of being free.
If I should ever end up falling for the 2.4 dream of white picket fences I want it to be with the knowledge that for a time at least I was utterly selfish and unrestrained and confined.
Consider the next nine years a gift -if you like- to my faceless dearly beloved whomever they may be. It ensures that I shall not spend our eternity regretting every second spent with aforementioned spouse.
So, if this is my choice, my decision, why does it feel like I’m trying to convince myself?