Single, Again, and Again, and Again …

Introduction Do you ever feel like you’ll never find the one? Are you sick of failed relationships? Do you feel like you are the only single woman left on the planet? And are you seriously fed up with comments and remarks from friends and family hinting that you are getting old and need to settle down before it’s too late? Well, that’s how I felt. At thirty-six, I was constantly being reminded of how my time was running out; I needed to get married and have children. Like it was that simple! Like I had a wand I could wave and magically create a husband! I was single and felt I had no control over my predicament. After all, I was only half of the equation. I wasn’t on my own for lack of trying, and regardless of what people assumed, it wasn’t entirely my fault! My close friends and family gave me gentle nudges and kind reminders that my childbearing years were nearing the end and I should get a wriggle on. I didn’t need their reminders. My biological clock was ticking loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear. I felt panicked and alone. As young girls, we grow up with society laying out our life plan: get a good job, get married, and have kids. After all, our primary purpose is to procreate. Simple! But what happens if that predetermined path doesn’t appear? Until you have walked in the shoes of a single, childless woman over the age of thirty-five, you can’t know the pressure, the sadness, and the disappointment of trying to fulfil your life’s purpose and falling short; wanting desperately to find the right man and grow a family together. Unless you have experienced it, you have no idea of the depths of loneliness or the trauma generated by constant rejection. And then there is the frustrating pity from friends and family as they look upon your plight with dismay. In my thirties, I found myself avoiding my couple friends, as being with them was too uncomfortable. I felt like a third wheel, and I didn’t want to be reminded of what I didn’t have. As a single woman, I was treated differently, like a misfit. I was segregated from the respectable twosomes, often left out of social gatherings, and given a separate table at weddings and special events. It was like I had developed a disease. I was an outcast who didn’t quite fit social norms. With the best of intentions and intense determination, I tried to find my soulmate and dutifully fulfil society’s expectations of me. But it didn’t quite go to plan. This is my story: a synopsis of my journey, trying to the best of my ability to accomplish my preset life path. It is based on my recollection of events, through my eyes, and from my perspective. It is my view of my world. I have no doubt that some of the people whose paths I have crossed may have different versions of these events, since they possess different filters and carry a different perspective. I have tried to stay authentic and true to the events as they occurred. To safeguard the identity of others, I have, in some circumstances, omitted certain details, if I felt these were not necessary to orchestrate my story. I have changed people’s names and sometimes locations to protect privacy. And after instruction from my publisher, I have changed my name as well. But the stories are real. To be clear, I do not profess to be an expert on any topic discussed in this memoir. I am just an ordinary woman who, incidentally and without intending to, built an extraordinary life out of her perceived failures.