Confessions of a Happy Single Person

I bought couches. They are beige, with button detail on the sides and dark wood trim. I bought a variety of pillows to go on them, chocolate brown and light blue—silk, suede, and cotton. I rearranged the living room furniture (what there was of it) to accommodate my new purchases. It looked great. Friends came over to admire my new set-up. They all oohed and ahhed. And one said, “What are you buying couches for? You’re still single.”

I thought of my china (that I had “borrowed” from my mom), my silverware, my glass goblets a friend had given me, my bookcases, my beautiful hand-blown red glass bowl. Why did I have any of it? I looked at my friend. “I’m still a person,” I reminded him. “I still want to sit down on something.” As I have moved apartments, acquired new furniture, added and thrown away pieces, I have always strived to make my home as nice as possible. Yes, I am single, but who says that means I can’t have a set of Cutco knives, or a fancy headboard, or couches? The home that I create as a single person is home to others, and will hopefully one day propel me into a home as a not- single person. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to be happy in my current home.

I get it a lot. The “why do you have nice things when you are single” question. I have a question too. Why does being single mean I can only use paper plates and get my furniture from the garbage pile on the side of the street? Since when has being single become a disease, that I am restricted to using other people’s trash to furnish my living space? In my opinion, never. A few years ago, when my sister and I were both living in New York, she got engaged. I naturally started organizing a bridal shower with two of her friends. As the date drew closer, one of the co-hosts emailed me on behalf of herself and the other girl. “Being that we are both married we have the space and utensils to really host,” she wrote. “I really don't see a reason why single people couldn't get on the train and come downtown.” So, since she was married, and only she and the other host lived downtown, the 20 or so single guests (including the bride) should shlep 45 minutes on the train because…we were single? Did she really think because she was married, therefore she had a better apartment, better serving things than me? I have a three-tiered server and a trifle bowl too. And I bet mine is nicer.

There is a lot of pressure to get married in the Orthodox world, a lot of pressure. With two married sisters, I feel it a lot. I feel it when well-meaning friends of my parents ask me if I have tried Frumster, tell me “I have got to meet” their neighbor’s cousin, and gently suggest that I wear more lipstick. I feel the pressure every week, when I need to come up with Shabbos plans so I do not eat alone. There was pressure last year when I decided to move away from New York, the “Jewish dating capital of the world,” to Atlanta, where there is pretty much no dating life. My friends thought I was crazy. My parents were hesitant. But I was tired of the scene, I was bored of going to Starbucks and Times Square and making small talk. I was bored with my life, and I wanted to go some place where I felt like I could make a difference, where I was not stressed out all the time about my next date. In a lot of ways, I should be more anxious now that I am in a social wasteland. Maybe the pressure is even greater now, being on my own, one of a handful of single people in a city of young couples and families. It is hard to be single in a Jewish community, it is hard to be a part of the community when I don’t have kids or a husband to mingle with other couples after shul. But I still have a beautiful Shabbos table when I invite guests. I enjoy giving the kibbud of making Kiddush and motzi to different visitors. I will not stop cooking gourmet food and homemade challah and make my Shabbos less enjoyable. I will make myself a part of a community, single or not single, because that is the kind of person I am. I am not freaking out. I am not bitter. I do not begrudge my friends’ happiness when they get engaged and married. I am just waiting patiently for my turn, when I can move my furniture and dishes into another apartment with someone else.

I often wonder if married people have a special kind of amnesia, that they forget what it’s like to live in this day and age and be single. Now that they are married, and they got countless household items off their registries, do they forget how to create their own happiness? Of course I want to get married (know anyone?) but why be miserable in the meantime? There are some great things about being single. Sale on AirTran? Go to New York for the weekend. Want to bake apple pie in the middle of the night? There is no one that you will be keeping awake when you are chopping and mixing. People think nothing of calling me in the middle of the night to ask for advice --wait, actually, that’s not a positive. I stay up all night cooking gourmet meals, watching movies, or reading Harry Potter. I can still host great Shabbos meals, spend quality time with my family, and have fun with my friends. Sometimes there is no greater feeling than stretching out on my couch for an entire day, reading a magazine and watching the rain. And yes, sometimes I’d love some company. But there is something great in being alone and being okay with being alone. Especially if I’m on my couch.

(Soon to be published in the Jewish Action!)

(Atara--you asked for it, you got it :-) )