Party of One

There are times when I don't mind, and even actually prefer, being single. Like the fact that I can watch whatever DVD's I want to watch and I never have to share the remote. Or that I don't have to pretend to be that interested in sports. Or that I don't have to ask anyone's permission to buy something I really want. Or consider anyone else when making a big life decision, like moving to Paris. Or deal with annoying in-laws. Or that I don't even have to shave my legs for weeks at a stretch, if I don't really want to. Being a Party of One does have its advantages.

But one thing that strikes me as being difficult about being single and over 40 is the lack of other single people to hang out with. So many people my age are in committed relationships, married without kids, married with kids, or divorced but with children to raise as a single parent, and as such their social agendas and interests are very different from mine. Their weekends are filled with each other, and they have little need to go out looking for company, especially the company of a single woman with no children. I'm the friend they'll usually invite out for a week-day lunch or even occasionally a week-day dinner, but never on a Friday night or on a weekend because that's the start of their weekend time with their "others".

I could book my social calendar full on the weekdays, no problem. I don't lack for friends and colleagues and acquaintances who would enjoy seeing me, and I really have to say that I do have wonderful friends -- there's not a bad apple in the lot. It's just the weekends that are difficult, and often long and lonely. Whereas once upon a time, I used to live for Fridays and the start of a great weekend partying with my friends, now I kind of dread it. It's almost (but not quite) the same feeling I used to get on Sunday nights when I knew I had to report for work bright and early Monday morning, in the "old days" when I used to have a corporate 9-5 job.

I spent most of my 20's working for a rather upscale insurance company, and working with a lot of other 20-ish people who were all mostly single. There was a corporate softball league, very non-competitive and mostly an excuse for everyone to get together one night a week and drink both during and after the game. Even the married people could usually join in -- since it was a weeknight. Afterward, there was a bar we'd all go to that had an open mike policy, and after a couple of beers I could be found sitting on the bar singing "Desperado" by request of my friends (and usually on key).

Then there were the work friends where we saw each other socially outside of the office. One guy, Joe, had a boat down at the Jersey Shore and in the summers, weekends were spent boating and drinking. The rest of the year, about once a month someone or other was having a house party. And in between we always had happy hours to console us. I had plenty of female friends and men friends and life was good.

During my 20's, I also shared an apartment with my best friend, and we were often the ones having the great parties where we'd both invite our individual friends. Everyone was single so no one was "alone", and it was a great time in my life. Then she met her husband and moved out, and although we continue to find ways to stay connected, it's not the same. And that's OK -- that's just life. She and I still love to reminisce about those days (and abuse each other about all the stupid things we did that fortunately we lived through).

Throughout most of my 30's, I worked for another big company, one that was much like the first one in terms of having a lot of really great people who were smart and a lot of fun to be around. Another corporate softball league. A corporate fitness center where me and my friends would work out every afternoon (that was social, too) and then sometimes we'd all adjourn to a local pub for happy hour. I hooked up with a fun group that liked to go skiing in the winters and we'd all rent a house together one or two weekends every season.

Although I was working with a bunch of thirty-somethings, some of whom were married and having kids, there were still enough singles to make my social life a raging success. More weekend house parties at someone else's house, or even at my own -- by now I was living alone in my very own condo, and having great parties a couple of times a year. I had friends, both female and male, to do things with on the weekends like go into the city or hiking or whatever. I went on a trip to Martinique with one friend, and also to San Francisco with that same friend (and her gay brother and his boyfriend -- now THAT was educational!)

During all those years, I wasn't always totally single. Sometimes I was in a relationship and for a time, I too had to juggle my romantic life with my wider social life. But whether I was seeing someone or not, I always seemed to have plenty of fun things to do and plenty of fun people to do them with.

Then when I hit about 37 or so, things started to shift in a very tangible way. I was no longer in a serious relationship, but more of my friends were pairing off and starting families. The corporation went through several major upheavals and many of my good work friends left the company for greener pastures. And then I left the corporate world behind for good. And frankly, most of those friendships didn't last long after we no longer had "the company" in common -- although a few have survived and continued to thrive, and thank God for those people (you know who you are)!

So now, here I am in my mid 40's. I'm self-employed. I work from home. I no longer HAVE "work friends", and while I've made some fantastic friends through business over the years, they're all married, too. And the only time I usually see a new face is the occasional visit from the UPS man or the FedEx guy, or if I run out to pick up a sandwich at the local Quiznos. (Remember... I live in suburbia where there is NOTHING interesting to do if you're single with no kids.)

I am very fortunate: I still have more good friends all totalled than I could count on 3 hands, and that's really saying something. But the majority are married and have families. And I have no male friends at all now, and I kind of miss that, that innocent no-agenda flirting and having the man's perspective on things (I've noticed when men get married either they no longer want to be friends with a single woman, or they don't think they "should" be friends with one, or their wives won't "let them" be friends with one).

Now it's just women friends. We talk on the phone, we email, and we do the occasional lunch or dinner out... but it's not the same much of the time. And even with my one or two "also single" friends, we don't see each other as often as we might like. It takes a lot more work to make plans... everyone's so busy. That's OK, and I know it's not personal when friends have other things to do and aren't available on my timetable. But still... I can't help missing the days where my social life was on autopilot, when it didn't require so much thought and mental gymnastics just to try and come up with something interesting to do with my weekends. Where I could just look forward to Fridays and the weekends and to know I would always have something to do and someone to do it with.

When you're single, your friendships are your life-line. They become your barometer for measuring what's going on in your life, both the good and the bad. They feed your soul, because you know someone out there cares about you. They keep you sane and feeling less alone in the world. But the cold hard truth is, when you are single and most or all of your friends are NOT, then you are essentially living on the fringes of other people's lives. You run the risk of living on OTHER people's timelines, doing things when THEY are available, and often making the compromises because what is convenient for you isn't always going to be convenient for your married/parent friends. You make those compromises because what's the alternative? So you're the one who can bend the easiest when bending is necessary to maintain the friendship.

If you're not careful or don't make an effort to do things that interest you, with or without a friend along, you also run the risk of waiting. Waiting for someone to notice you're out there, on your own. Waiting until someone else's schedule "frees up" so they can fit you in between their son's dentist appointment and the 75 other chores they have to take care of every week. Waiting for what is convenient for someone else, because your schedule is always "wide open" so you get to be the one to compromise and make allowances for people with busier schedules.

And most of all, you end up waiting for that special someone to come along at last, and to stay forever, so you no longer have to be a Party of One.