Last year, another friend of mine got married and I loved being at
the wedding for him, but I hated
being there for me. Endless questions about when I was going to get married,
countless declarations about how I was next, with a few prophetic insights from
God Himself, since it was a Christian wedding and all.
So…this person came up to me and asked me the obvious
dreadful question, without consent, without permission and without even an
attempt at waxing eloquent. I should have just done the whole ‘In-God’s-Time’
routine. But I was so tired and in no mood for concocted religious jargon. My answer
was pretty snappy, pretty simple and pretty rude: I don’t find the need to be
married.
Now, that is something you NEVER tell an evangelical Christian! I mean, never!
Her face changed and then with a reaction that conveyed certain
doom for my future, she controlled herself and spoke in that gentle Christian charitable
tone; you know, the one where we love the gay people until we don’t; the one
where we so badly want to pray for the man who is hungry, as opposed to just
feeding him? That.
‘It’s okay, it’s okay. I understand, brother. I am not
judging you.’
My first reaction should have been: Who the f*** asked you
to?
Why can’t my married friends understand, what is
extraordinary for them might just be something good in my eyes…and that, something
just vaguely good, doesn’t necessarily constitute my idea of a fulfilled life?
Why can’t they just understand that I don’t need to have someone to be happy? Why
the hell can’t they get that, may be, I have come to a place in life where I am
content with my lot in life, being single included. That may be my tether-crazy
marriage-horse’s back was broken long ago and now it’s just refusing to want
anymore?
Then comes the part, where I am allegedly averse to marriage
because of my past relationships. This one’s my favorite because if it is true,
then 90% of my friends are all world-class psychiatrists. Unfortunately, it is
not! So that just makes them asses with unwarranted mouths!
‘Oh, don’t worry about
it, Aden. You must be hurt. One day, you will get over it and want to marry.
So, now just deal with whatever you are dealing with! It’s okay. We get it!’
Seriously! Everybody in the world seems to ‘understand’ the
self-inflicted predicament of the single-class. We are just hurt, abused and
depressed. And one day, like them, we will also have our own revelation, and
this dancing doll of a babe with lips like a jewel and breasts like a fawn, will
prophetically fall out from one of the songs of Solomon and we will find
happiness…the everlasting kind!
Oh God, enough already!
I don’t need someone to rescue me from my so-called
‘solitude-from-hell’. That rescuing was done long ago. And the only thing I
needed rescuing from, was from myself…my uncanny ability to self-destruct. Have
I done that? Of course. So give me credit for that, married cow!
And the whole idea of a passing phase might hold true if I
was still a doe-eyed teenager with more idealism than my raging pants could
handle. It just so happens, I am not. My days of idealism are long gone, my emotional institutions are less prone to drama, my hormonal faculties are less predatory and my heart isn’t necessarily looking
at every woman in church wondering who that ordained ‘One’ is!
Don’t get me wrong. I am not hateful towards marriage or the
extraordinary life that comes with it. All of my ideals come out of a core belief
that I hold dearer than any other theology:
I am not incomplete. I do not need
someone to come and complete me. I am not an incomplete half waiting to be made
whole. The One that completes me is already on the inside of me. And that One
is greater than anyone else in the world. I don’t need rescuing. I am not
lonely. I am not starved for love. Period!
Now, will I never get married? I never said that. I might when
I feel it is time. Or maybe not.
But as of today, I am single. And there is an identity in
that. The identity that goes with being your own person, being your own muse,
being your own unbound, unfettered, untethered song, being your own mindless,
poignant, melancholic soliloquy; without being tied down by the selflessness
that is the hallmark of any good marriage.
Instead of talking to
me like I’m an idiot, you could just falsely accuse me of being selfish. At
least that would sound closer to the truth than the other garbage!
Anyway, coming back to this
friend, I just met. Now, I was expecting it to be something of a parade. It was
anything but. When he began pouring his heart out, listing all of the issues he
was going through in his marriage, telling me how he felt there was a certain
kind of beauty in me being single, I was literally beaming with pride but
reciprocating with gentle rebukes of the Christian kind.
‘No, brother. You are
so blessed to have someone exclusively for you.’
‘Oh please. Don’t say
that. You are in an amazing….’
Well, you know the drill!
Now, here is my own real
parade, a little nugget of truth that the married folks need to know, more
than the one they are trying to communicate to me:
Your partner is not a cushion for your pain. Your partner
was not created to molly-coddle you out of your stupidity. Your partner was not
created to compliment your ego. Your partner cannot complete you, when you are
a complete incomplete! And your partner is not responsible for your pain. You
are. So, stop asking your partner to be your pillow and check if you are a good
enough bed. And if you’re lumpy, then well, fix it, before trying to fix the
other side.
Take this advice from an absolutely non-judgmental single
man. Perhaps, it takes a single man like me, to truly save that illusive perfect
union you keep relentlessly boasting about.
Remember, Hillary, before the advent of Monica’s
Stained Blue Dress once wrote: It takes a village!
It does…always!
With love,
Single Aden.
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