Blog Project Day 87: Sometimes a girl’s just gotta whinge…
So, you’ll be delighted to know that Mrs. Woolf and I are finally back together. (Though I confess I almost tossed her over to dally with J.D. and Franny and Zooey but let’s just keep that between us.) We’ve traveled through Greece, lost her brother Thoby, and it turns out she may have been a lesbian as opposed to frigid, which was a bit of a surprise to me. (Yes, yes, I know she was in love with Vita S-W, but Colette was in love with lots of women and definitely wasn’t a lesbian.)
It was somewhat prescient that one of the chapters I read last night was about Mrs. Woolf’s difficulty in adjusting to her sister Vanessa’s marriage and subsequent children. On the way home, I was thinking about the fact that as a single childless woman, there are great swathes of my friends’ lives that I’m left out of. Nobody invites the singleton non-mommy to their kid’s birthday party (unless you’re related by blood) even though said singleton non-mommy adores your kid (or kids) and would love nothing better than to watch your new three-year-old despoil and desport himself with cake. I have other friends who I saw more when we lived thousands of miles apart than I do now when they’re just a couple of Metro stops away. But now they have a daughter—the most gorgeous, adorable kid I might add—so though they’re happy to see me when we sometimes bump into each other on the street, I’m no longer on the speed dial invite list for parties and such.
I think probably the hardest part is that I don’t really have anyone to talk about this. Most of my friends who are the same age and don’t have kids are purposely child-free. And not only does it feel a little too much like whining when I talk to my married-with-kids friends, but then you open the door to the platitudes when you really just want something to say, “Yeah, I know it sucks that it hasn’t worked out like that for you.” (And yes, I do feel like a whiner even as I type this post.)
So there’s no denouement or epiphany tonight, just the confession that as much as I appreciate all the benefits of singleton, some days I’m a little too aware of what I don’t have and don’t get to be part of.