American cinema has absolutely failed us.
Growing up and watching movies, I was under the impression that when I became an adult, I would one day casually stroll through the produce section for my week’s groceries and reach for that perfect head of lettuce at the same time as a striking gentleman. We would laugh, he would offer me the lettuce, we’d begin speaking, and then ride off into matrimonial bliss.
I may be romanticizing this a bit.
The point is, I grew up believing meeting your husband or boyfriend (or even just your next bang buddy) was as simple as going to the grocery store. I grew up believing we are presented with endless random opportunities to meet someone.
And, almost a year of adulthood has taught me that is the biggest load of manure I’ve ever heard in my life.
I’m sure there’s some percentage of couples out there who met by doing their typical daily activities—going to the gym or walking the dog. But, most days at the gym, I sweat my life away on the bike without even acknowledging the person next to me. Not really opening myself up to a hottie at that moment I guess.
Nowadays we’re inundated by Meetup, Match, and 100 other ready made recipes for a successful dating life. We’re taught not to obsess about dating but 1) the only people who ever say that are the ones in relationships so I think we should just tell them all to go kick rocks and 2) it seems the more we try not to obsess, the more we do.
So, here’s what I think they (whoever they are) should tell you: part of being an adult is being comfortable being alone. And, I really don’t think that’s a single girl’s cope out. I think the people in this world, single or in relationships, who are the most happy and healthy are the ones who are OK spending an evening or a day or even an entire weekend by themselves. I don’t advocate total isolation. But, there will come a time when you have to be by yourself. (OMG SO SCARY.) And, the sooner we learn how to be happy putting on some headphones and rocking out to Gym Class Heroes by ourselves (maybe I did that last night, maybe I didn’t…), the sooner we (this includes me…hence the collective pronoun) can all stop obsessing over not having that perfect person just yet.