An Ode to Staying Unmarried Forever

Photo by Vlada Karpovich on Pexels

I am in my late 30s, and I might never get married.

Initially, I wanted to. I terribly did. When I was in my teens, I never pictured myself as an unmarried woman with no children. In my dreams, I had a dashing husband, the cutest of kids, and all the usual, regular mush coated with a sugary sweetness that had the full potential to make anyone diabetic.

Then life happened.

Life happens for everyone of course, but for me, my journey took a complete U-turn from what I expected.

I did not get a dreamy husband.

I was not a dreamy wife.

I did not get any dreamy children.

My fairy tale turned out to be a horror story in disguise.. and I got divorced.

I thought my life was going to end. How is a woman in her late 20s going to live without a husband? It used to hurt initially. The thought that life would be so unfair, blessing others with the good things in life while I was left with nothing but despair, was too much for me to fathom. A desolate soul in search of a deeper meaning in the form of marital status – that was me.

In hindsight, I never enjoyed my marital life – if you take away the husband part of it as well. The regular chores, and the responsibilities, made me think, “Is this what I am going to do the rest of my life?” I had no time for hobbies, things that mattered to me, my work, or anything that kept me alive, active, and fulfilled. Marital life is indeed a busy world, and you should not step into it unless you are ready to take on the responsibilities, compromises, and adjustments that come with cohabitation.

I was never ready for it.

Within a few years of my divorced life, I realized how much I was adjusting and compromising in my married life. When I left the relationship, it was as if a chain was broken, and I finally attained wings to fly. This freedom felt like finally finding water in a desert. My thirst, however, did not get quenched. Instead, I found it ever-increasing. The thirst to enjoy the things I want, the thirst to not be answerable to anyone for the first time in my life, the thirst to just be. It was liberating, it was extraordinary, and it felt like love. I never knew love in the form of freedom. I thought love could only be found in people. It took a break from one kind of love for me to discover another. The type of love that I had never experienced before because all through my life I was told: “marriage is important.”

I never realized a woman could live without getting married. I have seen others living a content life without tying the knot, but I used to look at them with compassion. The thought that marriage is mandatory and the only thing that can make a woman happy was so ingrained and indoctrinated in me that any other way of living was callously dismissed.

Why did it take a divorce for me to find freedom? The answer might be that the people in my vicinity finally stopped pressurizing me to get into something I was not comfortable with i.e., marriage.

Note the usage of the word “unmarried” instead of “single.” A good relationship is like a cherry on the cake. It is a bonus—a plus. But I feel if a relationship is what makes you feel “complete,” then it would mean that you are lacking otherwise. This is far from the truth. We should celebrate individuality as much as coupledom, if not more. In the end, it all boils down to choice. There is never really one single right path. But you should have the complete freedom to choose the path you desire.

My dream is no longer marriage. It feels like I have seen the other side, and now I choose the other side – the path less taken. My dream is now to selfishly enjoy my freedom till the end of life. To those wondering how the path is – it is not easy. It is definitely not easy. You always have this big FOMO because everyone around you is following a path entirely different from yours – they find someone they love, they marry, and they live happily(?) ever after.

What happens when you don’t marry? For a reclusive person like me, it is a journey of self-discovery, freedom, and fulfillment. For another, it might be that of melancholy. It truly is subjective. But it is a life that is definitely worthy, liveable, and sustainable.

To end this with the ever-famous lines by Robert Frost:

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

An Ode to Solitude

Photo by Edu Carvalho on Pexels.com

As a single, mid-30-year-old, I have given solitude enough chance to say now with confidence that – it is grossly underrated.

Solitude is peaceful,
solitude is kind,
solitude can be friendly
and as intoxicating as wine.

Most will never know because the general perception of solitude is not appealing. Even a quick image search on solitude will display an array of dark, gloomy, and depressed visuals. I had to refine my search to “happy single woman” to get the picture above.

No one wants to give solitude a chance. What we truly are scared of is its notorious doppelganger – loneliness. They both might look the same, but are as different as chalk and cheese.

We are afraid of solitude because there is this constant expectation, from society and ourselves included, to find that perfect partner. You need to find “The One”, only then are you deemed “complete”. Your life is worthless otherwise. I wonder who was the first person who fed this thought into our minds.

The truth is – we can feel complete in so many different ways. Through our platonic friendships, activities, hobbies, work, parents, extended family. But we choose to feel complete only with a partner. Trying to convince ourselves we are not whole on our own.

For the longest time, I wanted to get married, follow the usual societal norms. But in my mind, I would question my motive behind it. Did I want to get married? Or was I interested in getting married because that’s what everyone does? I feel it was the latter. I just wanted to follow the rules set by society for a woman – work, get married before 30, and have children. It took one marriage to make me realize, maybe the time for me was not right back then. I dived into it way too early. Primarily because of pressure. Partly because of confusion.

I hope a day comes when solitude isn’t mistaken for loneliness. They are poles apart. One gives you freedom, the other pain. One gives you peace, the other trauma. One gives you clarity, the other makes you commit blunders out of impatience.

I hope one day, solitude, my sweet misunderstood friend, people give you a fair chance. Find out for themselves that you are not so bad, after all.