It’s always “Just one, thanks.” Are you thinking, Listen to this sad-sack bitch.
Doesn’t she have anything better to do than mope about her chopsticks?
“The truth is that we are modern, independent women who yearn for traditional dating and romance. It’s actually quite feminist to admit what you want.” Yet the persistent perception is that loneliness is something empowered women shouldn’t deign to suffer—something that can be fixed with yoga or a new dating app.
Alternatively, it can appear like it’s our fault: we’re too picky, too selfish. That’s why I initially resisted writing this piece.
But I also want to make a life with someone else (and maybe a kid or three).
In , a 2014 tome I found more comforting, author Sara Eckel points out that people are happy to write memoirs about eating disorders, crack addictions, cheating people out of their life savings, being Jenny Mc Carthy.
And I let the pain flow through me, feel it race up and down and through the conductor of my body.
Bella De Paulo, author of 2006’s , calls this ghettoization “singlism.” Even the shoeshine guy at the airport recently opened with, “You married? “Career woman” is one of the most common—and most misogynist—cop-outs.
As a result, recent years have seen a rise in single-lady-friendly lit, with uplifting titles affirming the pleasures of life uncoupled, including the 2011 book (Crown, ) by Kate Bolick, author of the 2011 viral Atlantic article “All the Single Ladies.” I read Spinster and, while Bolick is a spectacular mind and first-rate writer, it gave me zero solace.