All because one girl read an article...(Stella)

Today I'm feeling it. That righteous indignation that boils up in me from time to time when I see what I consider to be an injustice. I read an article today on a LDS magazine website about single LDS men and some of the causes for their marital situation. It discussed anxiety, poor self awareness, waiting for an angel from heaven type of spiritual confirmation experience, women who are too aggressive in their pursuits...in a nut shell it should have been titled:

All the excuses we men and women give each other or 6 paragraphs of nonsensical crap.

Am I allowed to say crap in this blog? Oh well, like I said I'm boiling with indignation, and I'll add this to the list of things I repent of tonight...

Are you over it yet? Man or woman are you fed up with the talks and the articles and the books and the advice columns? Are you over the analysis and the minute detailing of experiences to try to find the reasons why? When are we going to call it like it is? When are we going to stomp our feet and say enough is enough? Enough selfishness! Enough fear! Enough putting happiness off in the misguided notion that there's something bigger/better/less scary out there?

I propose we stand together and just like an AA meeting say together:
I'm (chosen name here) and I'm single. I hate it. I have no idea why this has happened to me. I can't get over this and I wonder if I ever will. I hate the desperation I feel but as the years go on the more hopeless I am.

Or maybe...

I'm (chosen name here.) I'm single. I want to be single. I don't want the responsibility of a spouse, children, home, etc. I want to have fun and do what I want to do. I don't care what the Prophets say. I date with the intent to have fun, not to find a marriage partner.

Or maybe...

I'm (chosen name here too.) I expect my future spouse to fulfill a list of requirements that is unreasonable and will ensure that I will stay single until I die or become senile - whatever comes first. He/She must be rich, good looking, spiritual....this list is really my way of saying I don't want/or I'm afraid/or I have much too high an opinion of myself to tie myself to another imperfect person.

Or if you're like me...
I'm Stella. I'm single. For years I've been an active participant with my peers complaining and whining about what the opposite sex is/isn't doing. For years I've wondered what's wrong with me? Well, I'm sick of it. From now on, I want us to say it how it is. If you don't want to get married say so. If you're questioning your sexual preference say so. If you're afraid say so. Stop hurting innocent people who are trying to find their forever family.

As of today I pledge to never again read another random article on how to not be single. To those who continue to hold to their fears, their selfishness, their refusal to follow the Prophet's counsel and guidance I add:

Take Responsibility. Be Accountable. Grow up.

BTW - things with my sweetheart are going very well so this is not a reflection of a bitter woman. Just a fed up one.

Touchy-Feely. (Anne)

One part of being single and childless that people might not realize is that I don't get a lot of physical attention. Even my sisters, who have happy marriages but have had spells of single-mothering due to their husbands' jobs, still have little ones climbing in laps, raining hugs and kisses (and sure, an inadvertent elbow or two to the kidneys).

I tend to shy away from physical contact—hugs, hands on shoulders and the like—because if I don't get used to feeling people touch me, then I won't miss it when it doesn't happen daily.

There's one exception.

A friend, a former colleague who is one of the touchy-feeliest people I know (and happens to be rather attractive) showed up at the same venue I was at last night. It had been six months since I last saw him. He greeted me with one of his signature enveloping hugs, and he sat next to me. We chatted while we listened to live bands, and every time he wanted to turn my attention from the music, he put his hand on my arm, on my back, on my knee. He would lean in close to talk to me, his stubble brushing my cheek.

And when the last band said good night, I turned to my friend, and he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me oh so tight. He kissed my cheek and stroked my hair, and we promised, for the millionth time since we stopped working together, that we'd stay in touch better this time.

If I wanted to, I probably could have wrangled a little more than just a hug from him...but he isn't LDS, and I just can't walk through that door yet. Yes, my Nana did, and yes, plenty of other women do. And maybe I will too one day.

But for now, it was just nice to be hugged repeatedly by a freshly laundered man who called me “baby” and adored me for an evening.