PERSONAL/JOURNAL/DATING/LOVE: I AM SO SCARED ABOUT BEING SINGLE FOREVER

I’m sorry to even go here; I’m sorry to even throw myself the pity party of the year, but I think this is something that everyone has grappled with at some point in their lives. We try not to think about it too much though. I mean, we spend so much time talking about love and sex. We go to lunch with our friends and talk about being single or who we’re sleeping with, but these conversations mostly consist of soundbites and false reassurances. We feel safe in that moment with our friends in some bustling restaurant on a Saturday afternoon and tell each other, “I’m finally okay with being single. I really don’t want someone right now because I’m just so focused on my career or X, Y, and Z.” Or even something more along the lines of, “I hate being single. I need to get laid. What the hell is wrong with me? I hate woman!” We think we’re talking honestly and maybe we are. But we try not to think about the concept of forever. When you’re single, you tell yourself it’s a dry spell or that it can be remedied by “putting yourself out there” or joining an online dating service. It could always be fixed. There’s always time.

But what if this is it, this is forever? What if we have a few more relationships, some of which might be wonderful and end up in marriage, but we still end up alone when we’re 75 and need someone to take us to our doctor’s appointment? I mean, that’s the whole point of finding The One, right? So someone can wipe your ass, clean up your vomit, give you your pills because they love you dammit and they signed the contract!

Being a spinster or an old maid has often been treated with flippancy in our culture. A woman has a lot of cats and wears potato sack dresses and drinks lots of wine. She’s a fun drunk cat lady! Or a man goes to a dive bar and feels the judgement and pity coming from the much younger patrons, but whatever, he’s just a lifelong bachelor. But the reality is that ending up alone sounds devastating and if you really think about it outside the context of some chic brunch or rom-com, it will leave you winded and gasping for air.

I remember one night recently in which I was walking home from a friend’s apartment in city. It was a Saturday night, which meant that Manhattan was a complete shitshow. Groups of friends and lovers were waltzing around laughing and their gregarious behavior reverberated through the city, practically making me deaf. I looked at all of these people who looked so happy and connected with each other and then I looked at myself — a boy walking home alone on a Saturday night amongst a sea of fun. This sounds totally cliche and whiny, right? It’s not like I hadn’t been that person before, galavanting around with a girlfriend and a group of friends. I have lots of love in my life and have loved a good number of women, this I knew. But there was something about that night that triggered this intense feeling of vulnerability. It was like I was suddenly walking in the most dangerous neighborhood and could be swept up at any moment. I felt exposed and raw, like people were looking at me and had written me off as a sad pathetic character in the narrative of their lives.

I was scared about being single. I have no one in my life, and I am so scared for the future. What if this is it? Alone forever? Everyone i know is on a path. My path is unknown. I have no idea where I will end up or with who. I used to love being independent., now it scares me to death. I know that's stupid- there's someone for everyone. But  I just feel like I'm running out of time.  I don't know. I just can't stop thinking about it lately. I don't want to be alone forever.  I just don't feel like I will ever find "The One..." or anyone for that matter

The next day, I tried to think about what it was that made me feel so alone. I had walked home plenty of times alone on a Saturday night and felt perfectly fine. But last night, I realized, I had thought about Forever for the first time in a long time. I believed that this was just one of many walks that I was going to experience alone. This was going to be it for the rest of my life. I was going to be the person everyone was afraid of becoming. I would take one for the team and become That Guy. It had never felt more tangible than it did in that moment. I could feel it, I could see it, I could taste my future grief.

We don’t like to think about the worst-case scenario, but it sometimes hits us in strange moments and it becomes more real than anything else. You forget about all the times your ex said I love you and meant it. You only think about the fact that you’re born alone and you die alone.

I know I’m going to be okay and that this is just a weird vulnerable period of my life. I really do. I know I’ll find someone again just like I have before and I’ll laugh about how emotional and fearful I used to be. “Haha, so dramatic, Alex Little did you know there was the perfect woman for you right around the corner!” But that’s not how I felt that night. That night there was no other person for me. I was going to end up alone. It was fated.

Being single is difficult like that. We can talk and write about it as much as we want. We can rent movies that profit off of our grief, and commiserate with friends over a bottle of wine. But those brief moments in which we think about the possibility of being alone forever are so quietly devastating. It’s your worst nightmare becoming real for five blocks. This is something Katherine Heigl can’t conjure in her latest movie. These moments aren’t what you talk about at brunch unless you get really wasted and want to have that kind of day. It’s like being single in HD. And then as quickly as it came on, the moment leaves you and you’re back to feeling okay. Maybe the moment will even scare you into not staying home the next night; in which case, the moment has done its job


PART 2

If you are most people, most of your relationships will not work out. Sometimes, things will fall apart naturally; sometimes, everything will come screeching to a halt; sometimes, you will fall asleep facing the opposite direction of a person for months and one day realize it is not because of your back pain, it’s who is lying next to you. Sometimes, it will creep up so subtly that when it’s over, you’re not heartbroken — in fact, you’re not even surprised. I am most people, and most of my relationships have not worked out. All, in fact.

I am afraid of being alone. Not being alone while walking on the street, though I am admittedly scared of that, too. I am afraid of being alone in that same way millions of people are afraid of being alone: of living alone and, in the end, dying alone. I am not always afraid of being alone, however — just when it seems inevitable.

I don’t need a relationship to make me happy. I love my family, my friends, my pets, my job and avocado. I am a decent cook. I eat well. I laugh often. I support myself financially and (much of the time) emotionally. For years, I was co-dependent and needy; I thought I was only half a person without another person. Now, romance-wise, I want somebody whom I can speak with, sleep with and sleep next to.

If you are alone, I can’t give you much advice on how to change that; I can only say that you’re not really alone, because we’re all somewhat alone, but that doesn’t mean very much, anyway. But if you’re afraid of being alone, I can tell you that I know it’s terrifying, especially when you have never really been done it (successfully, happily) before.

People who spend most of their lives alone aren’t necessarily “good” at it, but they’re better-adjusted, and that can mean the difference between driving yourself crazy with fear and simple acceptance. And people who spend most of their lives alone will tell you how much better it is, and how much easier it is, and how you should really stop being sad about it because they aren’t sad about their situation and it’s only made them stronger. And if you are like me, you’ll nod and say, “Yes, you are so strong, that must have been so hard, thank you for the advice.”

Today, while I am sorry to be such a huge bummer or to sound as though loneliness is somehow the only thing my life revolves around right now, I am admittedly very sad. So, the point of this piece is to remind you that being lonely is normal. Being afraid of being alone is very, very normal, no matter how many high fives we give to those who are permanently cool with it.

Just because you’re sad about being lonely and scared of being alone doesn’t mean you are a flailing, affection-anemic loser who’s flunking at being “unconstrained” and self-sufficient (at least, I hope not). Being told you’re not allowed to sometimes feel sad while alone is like being told you can’t get hungry when on a diet. While I may be shedding some metaphorical weight by being alone , I don’t have to be happy about it and I don’t have to stay strong.

You are allowed to be sad, you are allowed to be lonely, you are allowed to not want to be alone. So tonight, when I retreat  and stare at my blank walls  even though I won’t go so far as to sob or panic or casually call some old acquaintance up for sex, I won’t be happy. But I’m allowed to not be, and that’s okay for now.