Try telling people you’re celibate, single and want to stay that way.
Dear god, you’d think I’d said I drag barbed wire on my skin every Tuesday.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that when a man or a woman reaches a certain age, an age that one also generally associates with sexual attractiveness, fertility, the beginning of economic security and the decline of teenage angst, that he or she will seek a partner, indeed, fervently desire a partner, and do everything within his or her power to meet, marry, and mate. In my nod to Jane Austen, here, I am suggesting, as cheekily as I am earnestly, that the societal standards that are steadfastly ingrained in our psyches regarding relationships are still rather predictable, conservative, and normative. And, if I may be so bold to admit—being myself a young woman of a certain marriageable and fertile age—rather draining, dreary, and downright depressing.
As you, dear reader, can deduce, I am single. Solitary. Unbetrothed, unwed.As long as I have been “eligible” to date, I have generally…
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