“So, you have a whole bunch of invitations- you just don’t want to accept them, right?” asked Sus. Sure. Sort of. Not really.
I did, I do, have a few Fourth of July plan offers. And for that, I am grateful. And also, confused. Maybe confused isn’t the right word to use. I can’t quite put my finger on the appropriate vernacular.
I think it makes sense to back up for a hot minute, to start with another story. The thing is, I don’t really want to tell that story, because it’s going to sound eerily familiar, or even, repetitive. Unfortunately, it’s likely the most logical entry point for this post, so here we are.
I was recently invited to a birthday party. A 50th birthday party. I almost said it was a party for the wife of a dear friend, but if I’m honest I truly believe that she and I are also friends. At the very least, there’s a connection there. I respect her tremendously. She’s intelligent and kind and one of the loveliest women I’ve ever met. Really. So, I wasn’t going to the party for my friend, her husband, so much as I wanted an opportunity to celebrate her, because she is one of those unique humans who deserves to be celebrated.
I had originally asked a good friend of mine to accompany me to the party (after asking the host if they were comfortable with that plan). Then, at the last minute, he had a conflict and I had to attend the party alone. The thing is, I can travel to the furthest regions of the planet to hike and try the weirdest food and tattoo random strips of skin on my body, but parties, well, they give me raging anxiety. Tis the life of an introverted extrovert.
I have to put every ounce of energy I have into engagement, and I often find myself, at the end, entirely spent. On the positive side of things, I have known this incredible couple for twenty years and so, I have had the opportunity to meet a good deal of their friends and family over the years. That’s all to say that I wasn’t walking into a room filled with complete strangers.
The party was also cocktails and appetizers, which worked well for me, because I also tend to loathe eating at parties or in crowds. I know. I hear you. I’m sure I could work on this, but there is really so much else for me to work on, I’m just not sure this is the thing I need to dig into right now. Or ever, really.
It’s a lot easier to avoid the “aren’t you eating” questions when everyone is standing and grabbing chicken tacos and caprese skewers off passed trays. In case you’re curious, which I imagine you are not, it’s a logistics thing. I have social anxiety to begin with- when you tack on figuring out how to stand and drink and eat, I’m lost. There is a whole list that accompanies sit down meals with massive groups, but this isn’t supposed to be about my neuroses, so let’s save that goodness for another day.
Once I start chatting with folks I know, I can usually ease into a situation. That doesn’t mean I’m comfortable, but it’s easier for me. Usually. Not there. Not this time. The thing is, the entire room was filled with couples. Literally. Except for a few young people, it was even numbers as far as the eye could see.
I want to be clear that I am not insecure about my single status. Not even a little. However, in a room filled with couples who engaged mostly as couples, I found myself feeling a little uneasy, and a little untethered. That wasn’t all of it though. It was more than that. It was the pity conversations. The folks who mostly have conversations that involve their homes and children and couple events, and were trying real, real hard to find something to talk to me about.
I want to be real about something. I could have made it easy, or at least easier, but I didn’t. This isn’t because I was being difficult or passive aggressive. It’s not. At all. I just didn’t want to. Things have been challenging at work and I was tired and I didn’t want to expend the energy to make our conversation easier. I also couldn’t understand, and I say this with zero malice, how they had forgotten to have conversations about anything else.
Anything.
Else.
And by the way- I would have been more than happy to discuss their homes and kids and summer plans, but for some reason, my inability to reciprocate in the very same way seemed to throw the vibe completely off-kilter.
Okay, let’s fast forward to this holiday and then, I’ll bring it all together. And then, we can all go on our merry way.
When people asked what I was doing for the holiday and I said I didn’t really have plans outside of a bike ride and a walk, and perhaps reading a book, they seemed stricken. That’s right. Devastated. And that sharing almost immediately resulted in an invitation to join, to hang. There were excuses and caveats and all the things, but universally, there was a sort of panicky insistence.
I could almost hear a teeny person in their brain yelling: “don’t be alone for the love of all things sacred.”
Now, I don’t have to explain that they wouldn’t have reacted this way to a couple that was lying low for the holiday. They have each other, right? So even if they are doing nothing, they are at least doing nothing, together. But me? Alone and nothing? Unacceptable. Repulsive. Insane. That is a situation that requires fixing. Fixing in the form of a late, last minute, throwaway invitation.
While I am truly appreciative that people extended themselves to me- it is curious why they didn’t offer such before July 2nd and, July 3rd. And even, today, July 4th.
Did it slip their mind? Have they just been super busy? When did everyone else get invited? Also, today? I don’t think so. At all. And I promise you that it’s okay and I’m not standing on ceremony. I also do NOT want to take any of those humans up on their offers. Not because I have something to prove. Just because I don’t want to.
Should people feel sorry for me? Should they invite me last minute to their parties because if not, I’ll be, GASP, alone? Do they really want me there and if they do, did they not invite me when they invited everyone else because I’m single and they figured I’d be free? Do any of these questions really need answers?
Nope. Not at all.
I woke up today and went for a walk at 7 am with a good friend. Then, I rode my bike for forty-five minutes. Then, I baked strawberry, blueberry, banana, white chocolate chip muffins (I’m fucking patriotic, y’all). Then I lifted some weights, drank some lemonade and now, I’m going to go pick up my farm share. After that, I’ll probably write. And read. Maybe watch a silly movie. Maybe hunt for fireworks later. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
You know what I won’t do? Mourn my solitude. I won’t apologize for my singleness. I won’t be embarrassed of my independence.
And frankly, I can’t think of a better way to spend Independence Day.
A-freaking-men.
Anyway, don’t check on your single friends- they are just fine. Also, maybe invite them when you invite everyone else. K? K.
Have a good one.
X
L.
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