I’m Not An Apple.

Toward the end of an otherwise pleasant first date, my potential suitor asked me an unexpected question. “What do you think it is, about people like us? Why aren’t we married yet? Why are we doing this later?”

UM. Hold up. Slow your roll, Thom. (We’ll call this guy Thom, because that’s his name.) I don’t want to be lumped into a category with you. I don’t know you.

Something about Thom’s question annoyed (angered?) me. Although his question may seem harmless (and, because he is a good guy, I am sure he did not mean any offense), what bugged me was an implicit suggestion, in both his question and his answer (something about choosing to have ‘careers’) that I was single by some fault of my own. Not choice, but fault. That I had somehow done something to end up here, at 32(!), alone. Also implying that there was something wrong with being 32 and unmarried.

This interaction with Thom wasn’t the first time I’ve been subjected to some comment/question/other statement suggesting that:

a. I’m an old maid and

b. I’m an old maid because I’ve failed to attract a man who wants to marry me.

Maybe I’m being sensitive, because I do indeed want to get married and am fighting a stiff battle against society and traditional values which all tell me I’m way past my prime (for both marriage and motherhood, but more on that later!). But come on. I am so tired of this notion that a woman is something for a man to choose. I’m not a fucking apple* sitting in a pile at a grocery store, waiting for a man to come along and pick me for his wife. (And, since I’m not a Goddamn apple, please shut the hell up about expiration dates on my eggs and ovaries and blah blah blah.) My purpose in life is not to just be someone’s wife. I was not created to simply become Mrs. Someone.

Why is it so hard for people to comprehend that marriage (at least in my opinion), should a partnership agreement that is entered into willingly by BOTH parties? And that as a woman, I have just as much say as any man in who I marry, when I marry and if I marry? Furthermore, is it really beyond comprehension that while I do want to get married (and yes, sometime in the not-so-distant future) right now, it’s not my priority? I have an extremely full life and can barely handle having a dog to feed and entertain. A husband would be way too much trouble. So while I’m working my way toward the general direction (I hope!) of marriage and kids, it’s been my conscious decision up to this point not to do either of those things — get married or have kids. I’ve made that choice.

If my mother taught me anything, it was to be a strong, independent woman. That shit is ingrained in me — it’s probably in my DNA — and I refuse to be just some apple, hoping to be the shiniest, juiciest, roundest in the barrel so some guy will pick me over all the others.

I’m not a damsel in distress waiting for a knight in shining armor to come rescue me or a princess who needs to kiss a million toads to find a prince. (I am a princess with or without a prince — but if it’s a prince, I hope it’s Harry!) I’m also not holding my breath until some man comes along and decides he wants to marry me. It’s not like any man showing up with a sparkly ring and the promise of a new last name can entice me into forever-after. I know what I am looking for in a life partner, what I am willing to compromise on, and what I’m not going to budge on. So far, no one has been the right person at the right time for the person I was at that stage in my life. And, looking back, I’m happy about that.

It is hard, I will admit, hearing about friends or cousins or co-workers getting engaged. I am genuinely happy for them and their good fortune, but a piece of me does long for that connection and worries that I’ll never find it. Sometimes, when I let myself, I’ll go down a dark rabbit hole of pity and beat myself up for blowing it with a former boyfriend or wonder why I never tried harder to meet a great guy in college to marry. And then, reality kicks and I start thinking with my rational brain and I remember: when it comes to one of the most important decisions I ever get to make 50% of, I want to take my time, do my research and make an informed choice. And if you can’t understand that, Thom, or whoever else, kiss my apple.

*also, if I were produce, I think I would be something with many layers, like an onion. I can make you cry AND be sweet, all in one little mysterious package. Or an artichoke…you have to peel back some sharp layers to get to my heart, but once you’re passed all my protection, my heart is soo good.