I loathe being the stereotypical bitter female singleton/man hater on Valentine's Day. Iām above this sort of petty jealousy and deep down while I know I might be too cool, that doesnāt mean Iām immune to just how out-of-touch I am with love and all its commercial manifestations.
In your ā20s, you donāt get real woman cred unless youāre āattachedā or reeling from a messy break-up with an a-hole and kvetching about it. I blame it on that tireless Sex & The City trend. They even have shelves at reputable bookstores devoted to "Chic Lit."
But what if you donāt fit neatly in any of these categories?
What if youāre actually really determined to move forward in your professional/creative pursuits and would rather channel all that energy into something remotely constructive? Iāll admit that for a while, I can get lost in my work, but then inevitably my heart starts wanting.
Hereās where God is having a grand laugh at your expense.
The real kicker is that either way youāre unfulfilled somehow. When Iām in a relationship and all of a sudden āin love,ā I lack drive and ambition and I'm not ok with this. My writing gets the back burner and Iām secretly stewing about this, brimming with restless āmeā energy. And when Iām not with someone, Iām bemoaning my loneliness like a thinner, prettier, and more jewish version of Bridget Jones.
I repeat the mantra: Iām not selfish because I want to accrue some level of success with my writing. But Iād be lying to myself if I said it didnāt come with its sacrifices. For a relationship to work, you need a plethora of time and patience. Personally, mine wears thin by the end of the day with the countless responsibilities Iāve assumed.