Dear Small-Minded Smug Marrieds (Particularly in the Small-Town South):

Please let me begin by declaring that I am fully cognizant of two facts that you find so incongruous: 1) I am single and 2) I am 29 years old. I know you find it startling - nay, very nearly hair-raising - that I exist in this state at this age. It is a difficult pill to swallow, being in the company of one so tragically washed up and doomed to old maidenism (and already possessing one cat). Especially considering your own lofty status as a citizen of Coupledom, a virtual paragon of marital bliss to which we can all only hope to aspire from way down in the lonely Valley of the Singletons. Perhaps you even reside beyond the gates of Parenthood, an address that exudes wisdom (possible mistaken from below as condescension and self-righteousness).

This regrettable fact - that I am old and single - is not made more palatable to either one of us by your buggy-eyed stare at my left hand, as though to search out some evidence to the contrary, after I affirm that I am unmarried. Nor is it permissible for you to give me a once-over with your Eye o' Judgment, trying desperately to find the hideous deformity that has relegated me to this odious position in society. Furthermore, when you realize that I realize what you're doing, the best avenue of recovery is not the one in which you a) tell me about your son or daughter who is my age and is married and/or with child b) to assure me in placating tones that "my time will come" as though it is as easy as catching a train c) relate your own tale of singlehood and subsequent rescue from that sad, sad state by your beloved spouse or d) ask why.

Particularly that "why" - as though I have condemned myself to this condition so willingly and insanely. Like being single is akin to merrily sprinkling my morning coffee with arsenic. This why, sometimes pitying and sometimes accusatory - indicates to me that you think some aspect of my life is a mistake. Whether it's the mistake I made in not being able to attract a mate or the mistake I made in being willing to go on in this repulsive condition, I'm not sure. One might as well put a bullet in one's brain as be single at almost-30. And to be childless to boot? It's a wonder I can get up in the morning.

While I can certainly appreciate, and even champion, your happiness, I cannot applaud it at the expense of my own. You cannot force me into a social arm wrestling tournament in which you overpower me with your wedded bliss and your baby pictures. You can't look at me with those knowing eyes, talk down to me in those knowing tones, and assure me that someday I, too, will be "in da club."

In conclusion, I would like to confirm that I'm single, I'm almost 30, and I love my job. I'm an independent woman part one and I will throw my hands up at you.

Much Love,
One Steamed Single Lady