If you like it then you should'a put a ring on it. A song adored by single women all over dance floors across the world. Until this year I have never really contemplated what those lyrics really meant to me. I was jogging through St Ives the other day when a different song lyric made me laugh out loud. "I caught a woman with a diamond ring." The man crooned in my ear. He was boasting of how he secured a lady friend with the gift of a polished stone. I think I startled an old lady with my burst of surprised laughter.
All sorts of things about the choice of marriage have been catching my attention lately as I have begun questioning my own thoughts on the subject. It's not like I really have to think about it. It's not like buying a car; will I, won't I. It's certainly not something on the horizon for me, but being a planner I like to know what I want out of life. It's certainly something I always thought would come along for me. I guess for little girls it's a given. I never imagined my fluffy white dress, but I certainly thought I would be buying one someday. Friends have said in the past they actually thought I would be one of the first. Without questioning, I think I thought I wanted it. But do I want it anymore?
I think it all really began when I read the sequel to "Eat, Pray, Love". The book that followed is called "Committed" and it follows Elizabeth Gilbert's own journey through the question of marriage. The difference is she was questioning it from within, jaded from a terribly unpleasant divorce and contemplating a new engagement. I am now questioning it from the outskirts. Completely unattached, (having recently escaped a long term relationship relatively unscathed) irresponsible and ferociously independent. A lady in Gilbert's book said for her it was all about being chosen. I can really see it too. The happy couple, selecting each other to have and to hold for the rest of their days. A promise of unwavering, unfailing fidelity, security, companionship and love.
I'm loving going to weddings and celebrating the loving of others. I'm loving cooing over the product over those lovingly lovely weddings. I am loving sharing the loving with lots of loving congratulations, gifts, photos, smiles and dancing. Let it be known I have love embracing the joy found in celebrating the love of those who enter into marriage.
I know those moments of pure golden love. They are beautiful and not to be denied. However, for me those shimmering moments of clear happiness have always faded and reality come a tapping at my window. Love, for me, has not yet lasted.
A fantastically unique friend of mine, for the purposes of this piece I shall call him Dre, won't let anyone around him say the word 'married'. That may even extend to the word 'marriage'. If ever he hears it, even over the phone, he promises that person a nipple cripple. A this point, I would like to impose a caveat that in writing about marriage I am not saying the word marriage and therefore protect myself from the dozen or so pinches he would try to inflict. When we were younger I used to think he was being silly and Peter Pan-esque. These days I'm not so sure I can't find a valid point in his objection. It is taken to be such a matter of course. People talk about it all the time. Our kitchen installer asked me flat out the other week (in his thick German accent with his large gnarled hands waving about emphatically), "What's the matter with you? Don't you want to get married?"
Well, yes, I do. Or I did. But can you want that with no prince charming. Shall I hunt him out with an ad in the paper? Do they do mail order husbands? Am I so old that I should hurry up about it? Do I need a husband?
Ahhh.... that's the question. That's the real question. Do I need a husband. For anyone who knows me it is well known that I can fix a leaky tap or a blocked sink, light bulb, broken plaster, uneven paving or anything else around the home. My darling brother comes over to help with the super heavy stuff (at six foot-something-ridiculous so he blooming well should) and little mum and I take care of the rest. Many don't know that I am financially independent, despite living at home (yes, I am a bit old for that... but I really like it!) so I don't need a husband to take care of me. So two counts out for hubby darling.
Perhaps I need a husband to escort me to things. That would be nice... sometimes. Although I know what it's like when a fella doesn't want to go to things. It's like dealing with an obstinate five year old. Trust me, I really know what it's like dealing with them during the week and I don't appreciate it when I'm getting ready for what is promising to be a fabulous party with truly exciting people. I used to squabble with my old what-sis-face about him coming along to things. The arguments became too much and I simply stopped inviting him. I have become very good at going to things on my own and have actually come to quite like it. I meet some terrific sorts who I probably wouldn't have if Mr Handbag-Sourpus was scowling beside me and checking his watch. It's actually come to a point where I can't find time for a lovely guy who has being trying to take me out on a second date for weeks now. No luck buddy... don't you know April is the busy time of year?
So there it is. I don't really need a husband. I don't really need to get married. There's no point thinking about it anyway because I'm not even making time for dating, let alone making some guy a happy home. I'm being completely selfish and loving it. Never before in my life have a been in such a place of independence and freedom. I literally have choices arising for me every day and I can say yes or no on a whim. Do I want to spend an extra day at Bluesfest? Yes. Do I want to go to Ben Folds? Yes. Do I want to go to bed without anything for dinner but caramel filled chocolates? Yes. Do I want to spend time with who I choose? Feel joy and love, share happiness and companionship, with whomever I like, whenever I like? Yes.
For now.
One day someone will come along (a phrase I hear sooooo much these days) and I will fall in love again. At that point I will probably read this passage and shake my head. I will probably think myself a bitter fool for not craving the highs of swooning adoration. But in the meantime I am a single lady and I will put my hands up. Not for want of a ring or to flaunt that someone should regret not securing a ring on me. But I'll put them up to wave them about as I dance to the beat of my own wild, fun filled, single, single, single life!
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