What? There’s 59.9 million more like me?
According to this article in the New York Times, there are now 59.9 million single women in the United States. Or, stated another way, 51% of women are single. Yay, I’m finally in the majority of something. (I’m kidding about the enthusiasm.) You can read the article for yourself and see what you think.
I heard about this article from Katie Couric on tonight’s CBS evening news. I usually avoid listening to her as she grates on my nerves, but one comment her story made cracked me up. She – or whoever was writing the story – referred to Angelina Jolie as “single” just because Angelina was not legally married to Brad Pitt. Uh, to me, that’s NOT single. That’s attached. But I guess if one is being literal about single versus married, then she’s single. Whatever.
So I’m single, but not by choice. I’ve been married twice, but both times were very, very short. The first time I was very young, and the only good things out of that marriage were my two daughters who I adore. The last time was less than a year (no kids) and the divorce was his idea and that was nearly eight years ago. Essentially, I’ve been single my whole life, except for about a total of ten years.
Recently, my mother and I were on a bus ride to the Seahawks game and coincidentally a couple male friends of ours were on the same bus. I sat next to one (the older one, unfortunately) and he started chatting me up. He asked if I was single. I replied yes. Then he asked “So, what do you think is wrong?”. HUH? Wrong? As in wrong with me? It didn’t really hit me until later that the question was like saying, so, what’s your problem, lady? Can’t catch a man? Or maybe my defensiveness and sensitivity in that area just made me interpret it that way.
My chiropractor keeps telling me that one of the solutions to my back problem is to find a rich husband so I don’t have to work, or so I can change careers. I told him I would, but no one asks. (Seriously, I hang out around plenty of eligible men, and I am smart, intelligent, successful, and attractive, with a pleasing and loving personality. They just DON’T ASK me out.)
I think my chiropractor summed it up. He said, “After a certain age, men just don’t know how to ask.”
Great. Just great.