Today I paid a long overdue visit to my Aunt Marge. I've been meaning to visit her for months and I finally hauled my lazy butt over there. I see my Uncle on my mom's side fairly frequently, about once a week or so. We share mutual interests in dogs, festive beverages, making sure that he and my cousin have an appropriate amount of homemade baked goods, and attempting to prevent WWIII from breaking out between said uncle and cousin. I sadly see uncles and aunt in Florida and England far less frequently than I'd like to. Since air fare is pretty steep right now, I decided to at least pick up the slack with my Aunt Marge. She's not as coherent as she used to be, but she still loves to sing and when she laughs you can catch glimpses of the sunny, funny side of her.
Isn't it ironic then that, on the weekend I decide to put a concerted effort into working on my book of the joys of singletonism, my dear Aunt turns to me in a moment of unexpected clarity to ask, "Didn't you ever think of getting married?"
I was momentarily stunned while she sat patiently waiting for my answer. I replied with something along the lines of yes, I did think of it but it just hasn't worked out that way. She looked confused for a minute, maybe thinking that I had meant to get married but somehow never got around to it; like how I mean to clean the basement but it remains a hot mess. Then she grabbed my face and told me I was beautiful. That was almost too much to take; I teared up a bit, seeing myself through her eyes, and decided that that was so much better than being told I'll meet the right guy soon--this being what far too many people say when asking why I'm not married.
My aunt could have written her own extreme dating diary if she had chosen to. Well, maybe not extreme but she was a hell of a lot more successful than her maiden niece. My aunt had been married fairly young but sadly her husband passed a long time ago. She never remarried, but man, did she have the fellas running in circles for her! There was one gentleman who bought her fine jewelry and other wonderful presents, another who sent her flowers fairly frequently. Lest you think there was anything untoward about their liaisons, she reassured my mother repeatedly in my presence that she didn't care what they bought her, none of them was putting his shoes under her bed.
After her proclamation of my beauty, she and I chatted a bit more, me trying to describe some of the more memorable men that I've dated and her responding that they sounded like a bunch of simpletons. She was in and out of it for the rest of the visit but snapped back to when I mentioned a recent morning with my father. I told her that taking a page from her book, I'd started having out-of-tune (on my part) sing-alongs with my dad since music seems to be one of the few things that still reaches him.
Anyway, that morning he really wasn't into it. I couldn't find any song that moved him. He just wanted to go back to sleep. I grabbed CD cases trying to find one that would break through when all of a sudden, he started singing "A You're Adorable," a song that he sang to me all the time as a little girl. He forgot some of the words, but I don't think I've heard anything more beautiful in a long time. He may not always know who I am and he is so disinterested in almost everything these days, but there is a part of my dad that is still in there.
When I told my aunt about this, she started singing the song right away. I joined in and we did our own little duet in the common family room area, surrounded by the other residents. Then I kissed her cheek and returned home.
For the past two hours I've been thinking about her question. A few years ago that question would have me curled up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth, and chain watching horribly cheesy romantic flicks. In fact it did when my very young nephew--I think he was 8 yrs old at the time-- ruefully shook his head, said to me, "I just can't understand why you're not married yet." I'm pretty sure he overheard that from either his parents or mine and it was supremely difficult to convince him that not everyone gets married and that it wasn't something to be sad about. Hell, at the time it was difficult to convince myself.
Maybe that's why I started writing my book, as a means of convincing myself that the life of the singleton is a great thing and nothing to pity. Maybe that's why I have taken a serious hiatus from Internet dating, as the dates were getting crazier and less fun. I know I haven't delivered on this site's promise of extreme dating and although I hate to disappoint anyone that is actually still reading this very infrequently updated blog, I have finally realized that I don't need to wait around for a better half. I'm whole myself.
Don't get me wrong, if a tall drink of water turns up, I won't send him packing. Especially if he is wildly wealthy and either travels frequently or believes in separate wings of the same mansion. I have just lost my tolerance for wading through the online crazies to find someone acceptable, let alone awesome. On that note, I'll stop procrastinating on coming up with an ending for my book and just start writing it.
