There are certain occasions that come up in life that one often dreads to attend.  Funerals.  Job Interviews.  Pap smears.  Blind dates.

For a single woman in her forties…there is nothing worse than getting an invite to a wedding.  It’s like being sentenced to death, only far worse, as the meal is usually not as good.

I’m getting ready to attend my third wedding of the year this coming weekend, and while I’m happy for the bride and groom, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for myself as, yet again, somebody else is getting married who is not me.  Hell, I’m just going to say what I’m not supposed to say, (at least out loud), I’m jealous.  Not fairy-tale-evil-queen-jealous where I wish harm to the happy couple and want to steal their first born, (we’ll save my baby issues for another blog), but I’m envious because I want what they have for myself.

So there.  I’m having a pity party.  And the party’s been going on for a good ten years now.

I’ve been really trying not to let things get to me, but in 2017, there has been an abundance of engagements, weddings and babies.  And since we, as a society, must share our every move on social media, it’s all I see and read about, all day long.  I guess I could stop checking Facebook, Instagram and the other culprits so much…but that would be too logical.  I prefer to be miserable and irritated.

I haven’t always feared going to weddings, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve built somewhat of an intolerance.  There’s something about a single woman in her forties at a wedding that makes people really uncomfortable.  And that discomfort is returned to me with stares and smirks that make me feel like I’m the lonely leper, standing in the corner, picking at my grotesque skin, and eating it.

Shame on me.  I don’t have a plus one at the wedding, or in life.  I should be taken out back and shot.

The first wedding I attended this year was actually a vow renewal for my parents.  After 46 years together, they decided to fly to Vegas and do it all over again.  Many may think that’s a sweet gesture, but I think they just got tired of waiting for me to get married, and so they decided to throw my wedding for themselves.

For those keeping score, it’s Parents 2, Tracy 0.

The second wedding was for my 23-year-old cousin.  Let me say that again…my 23-year-old cousin.  Yep, there is no greater pleasure for a single, 43-year-old woman then to attend her decades younger cousin’s wedding, dateless, surrounded by married family members.

Again, for those keeping score, Young Cousin 1, Leper 0.

I have noticed a notable change to how people react to me at weddings over the last few years.  In the past, I’d often get asked a variation of the following:

  1. So why aren’t you married?
  2. When are you getting married?
  3. Did you not want to get married?

I wish these people would just cut to the chase and ask what’s really on their mind…

WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?

To which I would answer, “I’m a forty-something, flesh-eating, single leper.”

However, at my cousin’s wedding, those nosy relatives that would normally interrogate me about my single status, said nothing at all.  Not a word.  It had become evident that I had hit my expiration date, and those with any curiously about my future plans had now moved on to more desirable candidates.

I asked one of my cousins about the silent treatment a few days later and he said, “We just didn’t want to upset you.”

Now why the F**K would that upset me?

Let’s face it, it’s a no-win situation.  I’m pissed if people ask and I’m offended if they don’t ask.

I used to think I imagined this prejudice against single people, but it’s becoming more and more clear that it really does exist.

For instance, the other day I was scrolling down Facebook, (I know…I’m an emotional cutter), and I noticed one of my friends had posted an image that read, “People who have been single too long are the hardest to love”, to which she captioned, “So true!”  What followed was a bevy of comments that also insinuated single people were self-centered and didn’t want to grow up.  Really?  Am I to believe that there aren’t any married people who are hard to love, self-centered, and immature, merely because they are married?  I’m sorry, but I’m calling foul on that one.

Another example was at a work birthday celebration.  We had all gathered in the conference room for cake.  One of my co-workers was talking about the problems her son was having with a certain teacher.  Someone asked what the teacher was like, to which she responded, “She’s the worse.  She’s young and single and doesn’t have any children.  She should not be teaching.”

Our security manager was sitting next to me and whispered, “I think she just described the two of us.”  I didn’t say anything, but that was exactly what I was thinking as well.

Why does there have to be something wrong with me because I’m not yet married?  And why is it that people who are married are considered superior?  I just consider them to be, well, married.  Their life is not perfect.  They too have flaws, they are just not as scrutinized because, again, they’re married.   Yet, they get a “Get Out of Jail Free” card, while I’m stuck in solitary confinement, forced to spend every waking moment thinking about what I did, or in this case, didn’t do.  Let’s face it, I missed the cutoff date for marriage, (which I think is around 37), and now I’m sentenced to life alone, without the possibility of parole.

On the flip side, there are those people who tell me how lucky I am not to be married.  “You’re not missing anything,” they say.  “If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t.”

Is this supposed to make me feel better?  Rather than focusing on my singlehood, maybe they should focus on what’s wrong with their own life.

But now I’m sinking to their level.  I’m assuming there is something wrong with them.

Why must everyone be so judgmental?  Why are we always looking for fault in other people?  I try not to judge.  Although, to those parents who let their small children run amuck at the mall, allowing them to climb in the concrete, rock-filled, fountains…I’m totally judging you.

But seriously, we judge, and assume, and create unnecessary drama and stress, without ever considering one’s individual circumstances, or one’s feelings.  We assume I’m not married because I don’t want to be or there’s something wrong with me.  That’s not the case at all.  I do want to get married.  With my dress addiction, do you think I’m going to go through life without a wedding gown?  Absolutely not!  I will wear a wedding dress…even if that means I’m buried in it.

Rather than people wanting me to be married, shouldn’t they just want me to be happy?  Would they prefer I settled?  I’m not going to lie, as I’ve gotten older, this is an option I have considered.  Life does get lonely and I do long for companionship.  But, I also want to be in love with the person I am with, so for me, settling is out of the question.  Heck, I’ve waited this long.

I think there is a common misconception that if you are female, single and over forty, you need to sacrifice what you want to get what you want.  I want to get married, but I’m too old to marry for love, so I must consider marrying the next guy that gives me the time of day…even if he is moody, selfish and critical of my every move.  By the way, I dated this guy, and he brought out the absolute worse in me.  But, I did have a plus one to events.

Someone once referred to me as “damaged goods” because of my accelerated age and single status.  The definition of this term is “a person regarded as inadequate or impaired in some way”.  Now granted, when one puts another down, it’s usually to make them feel better about themselves, but I wish people would realize that words can be extremely harmful.

I realize that I’m as much to blame for my insecurities about marriage as those making the comments.  I have allowed people’s words to make me feel as if I am a failure, or less worthy than others.  But, I now know that this is not the case.  I’m flawed and self-reliant and have cats and watch far too much reality TV.  This, in no way, means I don’t deserve the very best life has to offer.  I deserve and want to be happy.  (Hmmm, there’s that word again.)  I haven’t given up hope on my future.  You shouldn’t either.

The next time you come across a forty-something woman at a wedding, consider saying the following, as opposed to making her feel like a defective single:

  1. How are you?
  2. What a pretty dress.
  3. Your flesh-eating disease has cleared up nicely since the last wedding.

Why thank you. 😊

Don’t feel sorry for me, I’m fine.  Actually, I’m more than fine.  I’m an attractive, healthy, single, forty-something woman who is in the best shape of my life after giving birth to my beautiful baby blog, Forty Tales.

And yes…I’m happy. 

Do I still want more out of life?  Yes.  Am I going to keep dreaming about my future?  Absolutely.  At the wedding this weekend, will I take out the flower girl and body slam the bridesmaids to catch the bouquet?  More than likely.

Yet…I’m not going to settle.

At my age, fairy tales are farfetched and unrealistic.  But, I have always believed that if something is meant to be, it will be.  So until then…I’m just going to relax and be.

And she lived Hopefully Ever After.