I am officially the last single person in my friend group. How did this happen? It feels like just yesterday we were being rejected from Raya, and now suddenly everyone is scouting for wedding venues upstate—except
me. I’m starting to realize how different—and freakish—being single
feels in your 30s. And it doesn’t help that our 30s is also the decade
where we spend so much of our time and money celebrating other people’s
coupledom. Because, of course I want to spend Labor Day weekend manually
inflating a 6-foot blow-up penis, drinking a month’s rent worth of
rosé, and pretending to be happy for Karen.
First off, having a party for your friends by inflating a 6 foot blow up penis is a red flag. You are telling everyone that you are immature and slutty. What you should have outgrown by the time you entered your 20's, you are carrying well into your 30's. It is not cute, and you are projecting that you are still a slut that cannot be trusted. Grow up and get some real friends.
When I was younger, I took it for granted that my friends would always be available for hungover brunches and emergency threesomes.
But now, seeing my friends usually means being the one single person
amid a mob of couples, who treat me either like hired entertainment
(“tell us a funny Tinder story, clown!”) or like their problem child.
For instance, for years now my friends and I have spent summer weekends
at a shared beach house on Fire Island. There are three bedrooms and one
pullout couch, and suddenly this year I keep being demoted to the
couch, so that the couples can have “privacy.” Excuse me, but do single
people not need privacy? I get that they want to have sex on their
vacation, but where am I supposed to jerk off? This is my vacation too,
people! There’s no other way to look at it: I am a hashtag victim of couple privilege.
Groce......and entitled....and groce.....and you are not a victim, you did it to yourself.
As
a millennial feminist, allow me to run with this victim thing. Last
week I had a new air conditioner delivered, only to realize that it was
too heavy for me to carry up four flights of stairs to my apartment. So,
being single, I had to hire a random man from the Internet to carry it
for me. Then I had to hire a different man to install it, only to have
that man explain that I’d bought an AC with the wrong voltage for my
building, which meant that I had to rehire the first man to carry the AC
back downstairs again. When I told this story to my mom, she responded
with a sigh, “See, this is why you need a boyfriend: Air conditioners,
broken toilets, a raccoon in the basement—that all becomes their
problem.”
Get used to it. You are in your 30's, and you getting free attention and services from men is going to be a thing of the past. From now on, you need to pull your own weight, just like men do (and more).
But
it’s not just that being single suddenly feels alienating in your 30s.
It’s also that dating itself becomes more difficult. For one, the stakes
are higher. You don’t want to waste your time on someone who doesn’t
feel like they could be “the one.” But simultaneously, thinking “would
he make a good dad?” after knowing someone for the duration of a martini
makes you feel like an insane, rom-com cliché of a woman. Not ideal.
The stakes have always been there. You just didn't realize it because you were too interested in sausages. Your time for being picky is gone. Ironically, that is the time you really want to be picky. All guys have a dik, you didn't have to be picky in your youth. But, not all guys will make a good lifetime partner. Also, the guys who would have made a good partner for you have married someone else younger and less slutty.
(blah, blah, blah)........... Deleted
Several paragraphs of hamstering and telling us why we should pity you does not do you any good, especially since you did it to yourself. If you talk to guys like that, they will tune you out. Trying to play the victim card about things totally in your control just make you come off as a whiner.
Of
course, that sounds unromantic and literally terrifying, but part of me
appreciates the harshness of it. Similarly, I’ve recently become
obsessed with clinical psychologist Dr. Jordan Peterson’s YouTube
channel. One of his common sentiments (and I’m paraphrasing) is this:
“Women: I know we live in a modern society where you are told to
prioritize your career, and put off marriage and family until later. But
the reality is, just because you’re a woke feminist with a trendy loft
apartment who’s passionate about her career doesn’t mean that you’ve
somehow transcended your biology. Most people—women especially—who don’t
end up forming a family unit will live to regret it.” Not long ago I
would have brushed this off as misogynistic, but I’m starting to wonder
if that’s simply a cop-out because I’m afraid of dealing with this harsh
reality.
Since modern day feminism is a lie, the truth is relatively misogynistic. Jordan Peterson is telling it like it is because you need to hear it like it is.
I’m literally cringing while typing this, but I also
think that a lot of people—particularly people in creative fields, whose
professional lives have less predictable trajectories—see themselves as
always on the brink of “making it.” Like, “Well, my career is just
about to take off, after which I’ll be rich and famous, and then I’ll
have access to better, hotter people.” I have been quietly thinking that
to myself for 10 years now. And while I don’t think my career is going
poorly, if you had asked me at 25 what I would be doing at 31, I would
have said that I’d have already written a best-selling book and made a
movie. And while those things are still on my to-do list, my older, more
realistic self has to acknowledge that they might actually never
happen. We all will likely end up being more mediocre than we thought.
This magical pool of super-boyfriends might never manifest. And at this
rate, if and when they do, most of them will already be married.
The princess complex is real, and it hurts women. Women are told they can have it all, and they cannot. The top 10% of men cannot marry all women, nor do they want to. A woman's peak attractiveness is at 22. This is when she should marry. Your wealth and accomplishments mean nothing to men. A good man is looking to provide for you in return for comfort, sex, and nurturing kids. If you can't/won't do that, they don't want you. From 22, it is all downhill, despite your career. Speaking about careers, even rock stars grow tired of their work. Work is called work because it isn't fun. Guys don't have the well paying careers because they want them, they have them so they can afford the nice things in life, outside of work.
I
suppose what I’m acknowledging here is that I’m encroaching on
“leftovers” territory. However, I would argue that the leftovers are not
always crazy, but often are the women who refuse to subscribe to the
Disney, faux happy ending, and who therefore lead more interesting and
strange lives. So maybe I will end up settling to some degree. But in
the meantime, I’ll just keep eating steak alone and RSVP’ing to orgies.
Oh, and I should probably freeze my eggs.
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