“Don’t worry, you’ll find someone”

I keep hearing this statement. I used to smile politely and say something like “well, hopefully so. I need someone to start paying my bar tabs” and then do
a fake laugh (even though it would be nice… booze is expensive, you know.)

The last time I heard it was Sunday afternoon. It was an absolutely amazing day. No plans, no obligations, no make-up. In a word: glorious.

I was in
an antique shop wandering around when the owner started making small talk. I don’t recall exactly how it came up, as I was distracted trying to picture how
I could work a tractor seat into my décor but she asked about my marital status.

I said, “Nope, I’m single… divorced.”

Now, I didn’t say it and break out a
tissue nor did I say it and do a cartwheel with jazz hands either.

I simply stated the fact.

I immediately regretted sharing this information as it typically elicits a very predictable reaction. She turned her head to the side with a look that you
might give a toddler when they spit up on themselves and put her hand on my shoulder as if to comfort me (which I was a little distraught, realizing that the tractor seat was probably a no-go) and said “Oh honey, I’m sorry.”

Don’t get me wrong, she was being sweet. But at this point, I could seriously keep
this statement on a loop and press play every time, “Oh thank you, but really, don’t be. Everything happens for a reason, we are both better for it.”

I knew this wasn’t the end of our conversation but I wish that it would have been. There is always one more comment.

Wait for it…wait for it… “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone.”

I kind of looked around like I missed something.

Do I look worried?

I’m here shopping for rotary phones and Life magazines from the 60s, without a care
in the world. Am I thinking there might be a tall drink of water who likes live music and dive bars who will magically reveal himself in between the Allman Brothers vinyls and vintage hub caps?

Nope.

And if I was actively searching for “someone” I would be all dolled up with fake eye lashes ablazing,
drinking a Cosmo at the W, asking a guy about his golf game and feigning interest in the answer.

Now I understand this is the standard. I’m not under any false pretenses that being single and over 25 (OK, significantly over 25) makes people
somewhat uncomfortable. It makes them feel as though they need to reassure us that although we are currently in a constant state of disarray and confusion,
our days of being a damsel in distress are numbered, as we will indeed “find someone.”

No distress here, nor should there be. Sure, it would be nice to have a partner in crime to have the occasional freestyle rap contest with or to remind
me I need to take out the trash.

Key words there: “It would be nice.” But not “necessary.”

It makes me think about how we set ourselves, each other, and more importantly, our daughters up to view relationships and how we unknowingly perpetuate the
age-old stereotype that a single woman can’t make it on her own without her big strong husband to keep her safe from the dangers of the outside world.

This
may have been true in the times of hunter/gatherers, but not so much in the age of iPads and ehow.com.

A couple of examples that best illustrate my point…

1.) Jerry Maguire: “You complete me.” Call me crazy, I think this is one of the most jacked up sentiments ever.

This is what we ladies in the business refer to as “a red flag.” She should have taken that cute little kid (whose brain weighs eight pounds) tucked him in
football-style and ran like hell.

I wanted her to say, “”Wait a second, I have spent 32 years figuring out my own story and am a strong and stable person, take care of myself and my kid and now you come at me with ‘You complete me?’ You need to complete you, Jerry. And then we can talk.”

One word: co-dependent. Nope. Big. Fat. NOPE.

But instead she swoons, just like every other chick in the theater and around the world. One big collective “ahhhh” was heard.

But it bothered me, even then. We should come into a relationship good to go with ourselves and then, if they add something awesome to our lives, right on.

But this is the school of thought where “don’t worry, you’ll find someone” originates.

2.) Cinderella:

I mean this one is just a softball, so thanks for teeing me up, Walt.

Her ultimate dream: going to the ball and meeting the Prince. What she should be
worried about is bouncing out of that palace, and getting herself a real J.O.B.

I get the whole princess thing, and the sentiment is nice, but I strongly
disagree that we should be teaching our kids that finding your prince is the primary goal in life.

Plus if you are going to put all your eggs into one Prince’s fancy-pants basket, do yourself a favor and pick one that can at least recall your face from
the night before and doesn’t have to rely on a shoe fitting to confirm that you are, in fact, the love of his life?

Come on, man. Lay off the moonshine.

In closing, I would like to share with you one of my favorite lines of all time (and probably my next tattoo), by Jack Johnson.

“My whole world fits inside of my arms”.

It’s when I have a certain 4-year-old toe head under one arm and another equally as wonderful 8-year-old under another that all is right with my world.

This
is when I have the recurring epiphany that what is most important is making sure I’m as solid, as complete and as confident as I can be in myself so that
I can teach them to do the same.

I’m not worried about “finding someone,” I’m worried about making sure I’m creating two of the happiest, healthiest,
confident people that I can. And in the process, if I happen to come upon a Bob Seger-loving adonis with full dental and vision, then he will be the icing
on top of an already very full cake.