Still Single, Female And Thirty Something?
written by: Valli Henry-Boldini
You’ve just turned the corner into probably the best years of your life, and they’re already nagging you. Will you ever make it to your forties as a sane and definitely single person? The war is on, and you’ve got to win.
No, there’s nothing wrong in being 30ish, female, and still unmarried. It’s not a disease or a curse that’s been put on you by Voldemart (also known as You-Know-Who). You haven’t suddenly sprouted a second head and sent any eligible males in the opposite direction. The one great head you possess is firmly on your shoulders and can decide for itself, thank you very much.
Why is it then, that as soon as you make your wish and blow out the candles on your birthday cake, a barrage of well-meaning friends or family members shoot out from every possible hole in your woodwork? Their one desperate goal in life? To marry you off and make a decent woman of you. You can hear them now, “…poor thing, she must need a bit of a hand in getting the right man.” Or “Not getting any younger, is she? Wink wink, say no more.” Can’t they all mind their own business and leave you to get on with yours?
Does every newspaper you open seem to bombard you with personal columns full of lonely-hearts seeking partners? Or every time you surf the net, numerous “cookies” for love and dating agencies keep popping up at you? Aren’t you sick of this love game big business conspiracy with loads of bank accounts getting nice and fat at the cost of our emotions?
My friend Debs, bless her, who’s been with the same partner for 10 years and has finally “set the date for next year,” wants me to meet her boyfriend’s cousin. Apparently, “he’s a shy type, but has a great smile and great prospects in a local bank.” Now come on, after all the years we’ve known each other, doesn’t she think I might be looking for something more than a great smile? She could have played the field, too and still been married by next year.
Then there’s my uncle John, who keeps reminding me, “Your second once removed cousin Joe, who’s family but not really, has been in love with you from birth. Why don’t I give him your number?” Well, I remember him. He’s the “well past the sell date” – and I mean well past – one with the annoying “cow stuck in his throat laugh,” no teeth and very strange fashion sense. No offence meant. What must they think of me? Can’t I choose to settle down when I’m good and ready with someone I’ve found myself?
“And there’s more.” The other day I received something through the post that made me laugh, but should have left me f*ing and blinding. Someone invaded my privacy by giving my name to one of those previously mentioned agencies. They sent me details of the perfect “special” man at a cheaper rate if I enrolled within 7 days. Give me a break. Me? I don’t think so, especially as I’m not desperate to hook up with a discount.
OK. I know what you’re thinking. If all these people seem to know what’s best for us singles, they must be right. We should just give in. What’s so great about being on our own anyway? Are you kidding? The pros are countless:
• Being free to decide – even on the spur of the moment – to do anything you please.
• No husband at home to nag you when you’re late.
• No guilt feelings about missing out on “quality time” with the kids or partner.
• Your own hard-earned money to spend on yourself as you please. (Especially on shoes).
• No sleepless nights (unless you choose to stay up with a real hunk).
• Your little black book full of interesting men to date.
• Not being forced to depilate your legs or underarms.
• Travel, parties, more travel, more parties.
• Sob your heart out at a good film with no one to tease you.
• Not having to queue for the bathroom.
Need I continue? Come on. After such a great list, can’t you see I’m right?
Should we – in our own way – “drop dead” gorgeous girls be worried because of our first grey hairs or two or three wrinkles around the eyes? I don’t think so. I’ve been dying my hair for years, and there are loads of great wrinkle treatment creams on the market.
Why give up a great career and lifestyle because your twin soul is waiting for you? Let them wait a while longer. They’ll still be there when you’ve had your fun.
As Helen Gurley Brown wrote all those years ago in Sex and the Single Girl, “Marriage is your insurance for the “worst” years of your life.” I believe she meant “worst” in the sense of when you’ve done all you want to do or can do as a single female. She goes on to say, “During the “best” years you don’t need a husband.” I agree. It’s better to have more of a variety of interesting companions to share all the “safe” fun with – they’re definitely emotionally cheaper and lots more exciting.
On the subject of children. Women nowadays have babies naturally well into their thirties or even their forties. Just look at J Lo, Halle Berry, and the long-suffering Nicole Kidman. They became mothers later in life.
And eligible men, when you’re ready? Their precious “baby-making” supplies can be regularly replenished until “Apolo Anton Ohno” hangs up his skating boots or maybe even dancing shoes. Who’s he? Look him up. He’s a hunk. Obviously, choosing a partner who will still have the strength to enjoy “playing ball” with little Jimmy or walking cute Sara up the aisle when she’s also had all her fun as a single girl, is heartily recommended.
Let’s look at the other side of my Prada handbag. Who wants to spend their greatest years cooking, cleaning, being an unpaid babysitter, and doing the school run for excitement? Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got friends who do just that and swear by it. I say, good for them. I’m really happy they’re happy. It’s just not right for me at this moment in my life.
My best friend Anto, can back me up as another good example of a single intelligent “thirty-something” female. She’s a Cameron Diaz look-alike and has similar luck with younger men, but that’s besides the point. We’re both enjoying a great career working for two rival international companies. She enjoys an eight-week holiday a year (jealously two more than me), which she spends travelling the world. She has her own house, a decent car, and lots of quality male company to choose from (exactly like me). Why should we give all this up for one man – namely, a husband – and 2.5 children? Don’t we already have the “rest of the best” on our own? My list of girlfriends in a similar position could fill Bridget Jones’s Diary – Part Two and Three.
An enormous amount of hard work has gone into getting you to this point in your life. So, take my advice, please. Don’t go spoiling it all now by putting that heavy, solid band on your finger. Be daring and enjoy yourself for a few more years. Don’t let them tell you “Only men can sow their seeds.” We’re in the 21st century, know all about condoms and have long survived George Orwell’s 1984, so why not malicious stereotyping too?
Be on the lookout for sure signs that you’re losing the battle
• You don’t flinch when he plays with your mobile phone.
• You tell him he looks great in the sweater you knitted for him. (Oh dear).
• You allow the same “him” to stock up your kitchen with all his favourite foods.
• You look lovingly (not “him” again) into his eyes when he talks about the future.
• He stays over (now this is really serious) three nights a week for more than a month.
• You go on holiday together alone. (That’s it. You’re a lost case).
If none of the above sure signs apply to you, then you should be proud to stand up and be counted as being single by choice. If not, don’t send me your wedding list.
Must dash. I’ve got a 4 o’clock hair appointment, cocktails at 6 o’clock with Marc, or is it, Steve? Oh yes, then there’s my late dinner date at 8pm with Francesco. Ciao.
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