Today I had a conversation with an old high school girlfriend. We talked for two hours,… Today I had a conversation with an old high school girlfriend. We talked for two hours, catching up, trying to fill in the blanks of the two years that had passed since we last spoke. Then, family — that unavoidable subject — came up.
Her sister is an eloquent female majoring in speech pathology at a highly accredited university in Philadelphia. I learned that she will soon graduate and has been offered a position that pays a $75,000 starting salary.
After my friend conveyed my congratulations, her response was, “Thanks. Now all I need is a boyfriend.”
Like my friend’s sister, I am college student getting ready for life in the real world. I recently turned 21 and am about to enter my senior year here at Pitt. My transition into womanhood has finally ended.
Hear me roar.
I’ve walked entirely through the door of femininity and endured all rights of passage, alcoholic and otherwise. As I look ahead to the near future, I can’t help but ask myself: What’s next?
Well, after the obvious bachelor’s degree, I have the expectations of not only graduate school, but also of the unstated portion of any heterosexual female’s contract with the college experience: a suitable mate, worthy of marrying.
It’s interesting to explore what motivates this desire. Is it just a need for companionship or is it more? One explanation can be the suggestive nature of media imagery.
We are barraged by rhythm and blues’ ballads played on the radio that serve as dialogue between one apologetic lover and another. Worse are the examples served up on the big screen where intensely chiseled, charismatic love interests always complement the dynamic roles played by women.
Then there are the individuals who intend to put their relationship on display in aisle three at the grocery store, their hands inappropriately in their lovers’ pockets.
Things like the aforementioned examples manage to drown out the message in Mya’s, “Single, Sexy and Free.” It seems that being single is a temporary sickness and for most women, there is no cure.
As college students, we are reasonably intelligent and we understand the craft of media and the inner-workings behind their display. But somehow doublethink occurs because we can’t see the scenes in our life with happiness woven in nights spent alone.
I am on a quest for more than just a solemn respect for singlehood, but for acknowledgement of it as a lifestyle choice as valid as the choice made in saying “I do.” If not for the rugged individualism enforced in every other aspect of our American lives, we would accept singlehood because everything in a woman’s life — and any man’s life, for that matter — is dependent on how she maintains a healthy sense of self.
When maintaining this, it becomes easy to enjoy singlehood despite the media’s ploys. However, this is easier said than done. I have learned some things from the time I have been single, and they have been lessons that have served as a guiding light.
One of the reasons why people enter, or stay in, negative relationships, is economic security. Financial independence is a deterrent to such behaviors.
Another thing I have learned from singlehood is to allocate money in my budget to self-congratulate. Treating myself to a pedicure is a great way to recognize an accomplishment on any given day. It’s interesting how even the slightest touch that makes me feel good outside makes me feel good inside, too.
I also learned to utilize a cheerleading squad. Being single doesn’t mean being alone. Everyone needs a support system to assist verbally or physically, especially in a life task that may seem insurmountable. And they come in handy for companionship as well.
Finally, I understood the value of therapy. I realized that mental health is just as crucial as medical health. As astute as my friends or I may be, we do not have the answers to all my problems. A healthy state of mind needs nurturing that can be facilitated through professional assistance.
In summary: It’s OK to be single. And, in fact, it is healthy sometimes to retreat into singlehood to do some of the soul-searching that is often difficult in the close parameters of two-ness.
So in a year, the suitable boy might be there. Or, chances are — considering the diminutive size of this 55.5 square mile city — he might not. If, however, he does come, I will know that I am not a damsel in distress, and although I can appreciate and accept everything a fulfilling relationship brings, I don’t need rescuing from me.
Singles, send Rose feedback at sba1@pitt.edu.
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