On Friday, June 28, 2024, I spent my first night at my new home, and as I type this, in my guest bedroom/office, on the desk I built myself, I’m mostly moved in.
For me, the “setting up the new area” is the fun part. I had a tough time getting motivated to put in my bedsheets after spending most of the day working with the movers, but hey, I had to sleep somewhere, right? The Internet installers weren’t scheduled to come in until the next morning, so I spent the night horizontal on the couch, watching a DVD of Jimi Hendrix’s Woodstock performance on my laptop. Once the Internet was installed, I upgraded to watching The Wonder Years reboot on Netflix. And when I found a power strip, a DVD of Brooklyn’s Finest. The next few days were spent unpacking boxes and some rudimentary exploring of the area. This included my first major grocery shop, getting gas, a Dunkin’ run, a few trips to Ace Hardware for a power drill and Velcro strips, returning of an old modem to Xfinity, and giving an old set of baseball cards to a kid. I thought it would be jarring to suddenly travel to Boston in the midst of all this work, but it proved to be a nice break. I got to see Bella, Joan, Elyakim, Karen, Elizabeth, Donna, Kate, Geoff, Ketaki, and a bunch of my fellow Singles Studies scholars/writers/activists. The trip could have been marred by that power outage in New Haven, which kept me from boarding the Amtrak, but since Chester was staying with his Mom in New York, I ended up cancelling the train trip and hopping a bus to the Big Apple. That Sunday was well-spent with Chester, especially the many naps I took throughout the day. I hadn’t realized how exhausting that solo move really is. Then add the trip to it. Now, to showcase my lack of handiness: 1 – I did put together a nice writer’s desk for my office. It said “We recommend two people for assembly.” Yeah, my left buttock! 2 – I shouldn’t have gotten so cocky. I bought some towel hooks for my door, which came with screws and drill bits. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t make any kind of hole in the door, which messed with the paint some. So I tried to mount it on with Velcro, which didn’t hold it on and just messed the paint up. Next, I bought hooks with Velcro. They didn’t work, and messed the paint up even more. So I called a TaskRabbit. Lesson learned. At any rate, my game of Box Jenga (as Christina put it) ended in my storage space, as I got rid of most of the boxes, unpacked most of my items, and just left some things I don’t necessarily need but just can’t read it of (some jackets containing CDs) in my storage space. And I got “welcomed” by an act of G-d. On Tuesday, July 16, at about 9 a.m., I was writing in my office when I heard a vibrating thud from the master bedroom. What’d I mess up this time? I said. When I walked in, I saw a huge tree branch sticking through my ceiling. It had come through the roof and knocked out a blade on my ceiling fan. Fortunately, the on-site handypeople patched the roof up, and the condo agreed to replace my fan and drywall/paint the ceiling. As I type, we’re waiting on the fan. So I have a nice hole in the ceiling where that fan blade used to be. Funny enough, I didn’t go completely ballistic. My reaction was a muted, Oh, shit. I’m just glad I’m only responsible for the inside; if I had a traditional family and lived in a single-family home, I’d have had to call a roofer, and in transit, possibly move the bed and my nice area rug. Then, I’d have to put a bucket on the floor to catch any rain, as we had some remarkable thunderstorms last night. I love my condo life.
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Moving into a new home as a SALA (Single and Living Alone) is freeing, but man oh man, is it exhausting! You do everything yourself.
And so the International Singles Studies Association Conference couldn’t have come at a better time. The train ride to Boston was uneventful, just how I like it. And those solo train trips – I can’t get enough of those. Reading (I Don’t: The Case Against Marriage) and viewing (the pro-single Muriel’s Wedding) also made the trip fun. After a wonky sleep at the Airbnb, the alarm on the phone told me it was 6 a.m. and time to rise. I was about to see my fellow crusaders, though, so I figured sleep could wait. I wasn’t too pumped about the rain, but I braved it to get to the T. My New York Mets hat did earn me a few stares on the ride to Arlington. My thought on that, “We have a common enemy. I hate Yankees fans too! We should be friends!” After my requisite Boston Crème donut and coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts, I met up with Joan, Karen, Donna, and Elizabeth at the hotel, where I couldn’t help but stare at Karen’s Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon (sadly, home renovation expenses forced me to be satisfied with aforementioned donut and coffee). My temptation to order that dish as a second breakfast (Lord of the Rings reference!) was interrupted by the need to be at the Boylston Room for the first talk of the day. There, I got to see Elyakim, and in addition to meeting Donna for the first time, I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Geoff MacDonald and Kate Fama, whom I’d only seen on those Brady Brunchesque squares of Zoom. I was enthralled to learn there were three concurrent sessions, up from the one that took place when Ketaki and I organized the inaugural conference back in 2020 (it seems like so long ago). Conversely, I was bummed I had to miss others, but I did get to hear Donna and Joan’s stories of singlehood, Elizabeth’s literary analyses of Ottessa Moshfegh's My Year of Rest and Relaxation and Jhumpa Lahiri's Whereabouts, two pieces that will now have to be on my reading list. And I got that usual adrenaline rush that came from presenting my piece. It was the same on Mrs. Maisel, but it’s good to try it out on different audiences. And I’m working on new some material as we speak. I had a second presentation on one of the entirely virtual rooms. Unfortunately, the Wifi information the hotel gave me wasn’t accurate (limited resources for us singles, indeed!), but I did find a table at the adjacent Starbucks, where I attended a talk from Giora Ashkenazi about single gay men’s partner-seeking habits. Not surprisingly, the “fear of loneliness” and “fear of being single” scales came up quite a bit. I gave my presentation on “How to be Single and Happy” and had the privilege of sharing the stage with Ketaki, as well as Naomi Cahn, Bobbie Spellman, and Kaiponanea Mastumura, who are developing a course on Singlehood and the Law, a course I would sign up for in a heartbeat, even without the required law school prerequisites. The ensuing discussion about family law and how Singles Studies fits into that were enthralled, and I was honored that Naomi asked me to share my How to be Single and happy course materials. I did head back to my Airbnb in East Boston (also known as “Eastie,” a term I learned from Karen), where I was able to catch a power nap before the last session of the day, in which Donna, Bella, and Christine Erickson spoke about initiatives happening: Donna advocating for single women without children and Christine’s work on a counter to the pronatalism movement. And, of course, Bella’s close: reflections on her work in Singles Studies. I headed back to the hotel for the happy hour, where I saw Kate, Joan, Bella, Erin, Kelly, and Elyakim, where all kinds of topics came up. Singles Studies, of course, but also politics (PLEASE VOTE THIS FALL!) and traveling. The conversation continued over dinner at nearby French Quarter (nothing like New Orleans-style food in Boston). Topics: politics, tax and financial problems among couples (shout-out again to Karen, the accountant in the house), and inequities in health care. As an introvert, my social battery drains quickly, particularly at night, but I was willing to brave it to hang with my fellow crusaders. Nonetheless, I was happy once back in my room with my music. The next morning, I got out of bed to see my phone read “8:51,” the latest I’d woken up in weeks. After a solo jog around Eastie, I headed to South Station, had a breakfast sandwich, and sat down to read the day’s Boston Globe. Then, I heard about the power outage in New Haven, which kept all trains between Boston and New York in lockdown. The announcement said the “estimated time” they’d be back up was 3 p.m., but as a solo who loves train travel, I know better. I immediately got a refund and hopped a Greyhound bus to New York. That would have been much harder with a partner or family in tow. We would have had to discuss, wait, discuss more, and we probably would have had to stay the night. In my case, I was able to drop off in New York to see Chester, who’s been staying with his Grandma while I’m in the moving process. Writing has gone on the back burner since I’ve been in the moving process, but conferences are always reinvigorating. So I’m resolving to start each day with some writing, just to set the mood. I’m typing this from my closer-to-empty apartment, eight days away from officially moving. And the past month has been like “basic training” with respect to repairs, which is par for the course for a homeowner.
About a month ago, the light bulb from a fixture in my kitchen went out. All I needed to do was pull up the building’s app on my phone, fill in the order, and 24 hours later, it was done. Since I have recessed lights that are meant to last for ten years, that’s probably not an issue. But, if my refrigerator, for example, happens to go, I can’t just pull up an app. I have to find someone who repairs them and either: A) pony up the costs for repair; or B) do the research on a new refrigerator, order it, and pay for it and have someone install it (I’m not handy enough to do those things). This past month has been a whirlwind of interviewing contractors, reviewing estimates, having contractors not show up, having contractors promising estimates and not following through with them, that good feeling of finally finding a reliable, effective contractor, and, of course, that back-and-forth between DC and North Bethesda. That said, I do get my step count up as a result of that 10-minute walk between the Metro stop and my place. First, I found an amazing handyman, Roberto, whom I’ve recommended to two people thus far. I continue to be surprised that so many others don’t respond; you’d think that they’d want business, but, I’ve learned it’s a “contractor’s market.” Some jobs are just too small; I just wish people would be more transparent about it. But it felt great to connect with someone reliable and skilled. Painting was also interesting to watch as it progressed. I can understand why some people might like to get high off paint fumes; it’s quite the aroma. And I have a bunch of paint cans in one of my closets; if I ever want to touch it up, it’s there. All I need are some rollers and/or brushes (I helped somebody paint a yoga studio many years ago, so I’m a bit rusty on the DIY tools needed). I had a short trip to New York, where I had the opportunity to learn from my Mom, home decorator extraordinaire, about what kinds of furniture and decorations would go with my colors. So we took trips to Homegoods, Blinds to Go, and Bob’s. I learn best kinesthetically, so I needed to actually sit/lay down on the furniture. She also recommended Wayfair for smaller furniture; I’ve been seeing some good stuff. Christina’s blue wagon is also a G-dsend; I’ve used it to wheel bulkier items from my apartment to my car to my condo. At this point, my storage space resembles Box Jenga (a phrase from Christina), but it will subside once painting is done and some of the bigger furniture can be moved in. At that point, I can start arranging. A month in, lots of renovations have happened, and the place is starting to feel like mine. The next step: decorations and moving. Some things I’ve learned: 1)It’s tough to find a good contractor. But it’s great when you do. And treat them well. They can decide whether or not they want to work with you. Always have water available; snacks are good, too. Mine got those Popcorners. 2)Even though I’m not living there yet, I am starting to feel more “connected.” I say hi to people and smile a bit more at others. Perhaps that comes when the place is yours? The next piece in this series will come in August, three months into homeownership. My cat/son Chester’s been an integral part of my life for the past eight years. I post about him often he’s pretty much CoSP’s mascot. People don’t think of me without thinking of him. Whenever I sign birthday/graduation/event cards, I sign them “Craig and Chester.” So to move to a home without him was, well, unfathomable, to put it mildly.
And I was disappointed to see so many places during my search that didn’t allow pets. I saw a place that checked every box on my list (close to Metro, two bedrooms, larger than my DC apartment) but when I heard pet-free, I dismissed it. But Don, the listing agent, mentioned the words “service animal” or “ESA” (Emotional Support Animals). I was good and angry at places that don’t allow pets, yet Chester is super quiet and will not do anywhere near the amount of damage a human child will do. But the laws won’t allow landlords to ban children. Chalk that up to familism. I struggled with whether to do this, but I decided I had nothing to lose by trying to get Chester in as an Emotional Support Animal. Fortunately, the same laws that protect children can also protect animals. The Fair Housing Act mandates condos and buildings to allow service animals and emotional support animals in the building, and even in those grey areas, the courts tend to favor the resident over the corporation (score one for the little guy!). And the day I went under contract, I felt a burst of emotion. Excitement coupled with anxiety. As I lay down on the couch, Chester put his paw over my heart; that biofeedback worked wonders. He really is an ESA; aren’t most pets? But I had to fill out an application, get a letter from my therapist, and drive up I-270 to Gaithersburg to get him licensed in Maryland. I put those forward, but had to wait over a month. The reason: they couldn’t officially approve him until I was an official resident of the condo. Last week, I got the letter verifying Chester for what he really is. Well, I officially understand the phrase “trial by fire,” as it applies to my first week of homeownership. It was a grueling week, but I did learn a lot.
Saturday I began to take measurements and devise ideas on how to design my living space. Sunday was what Appalachian Trail thru-hikers call a “zero day;” I enjoyed a nice crab cake lunch with my friend Courtney at the Waterfront, my second-favorite place in DC (first is Adams Morgan). Monday was the day I had set up with contractors I’m calling the big three: a painter, an electrician, a plumber. Jason set me up with the painter, whom I showed color swatches I’d acquired from Ace Hardware (love that name, and I became a Rewards member there). Painting will be done after everything else (can’t control drywall damage), but it’s still good to know. The electrician came by and seemed personable and knowledgeable enough, but after reviewing the estimate with my experienced homeowner mother, we decided he was charging way too much. The plumber decided not to do the job because they didn’t like working in condos (that would have been nice to know BEFORE they came by, and couldn’t they have read the inspection report?). Tuesday: I had Rush’s “Working Man” in my head as I carried a coffee-filled thermos in one hand and my camoflauge lunch container in the other (“I get up, seven yeah, and I go to work at nine”). Though, to be fair, a lot of my work consisted of waiting around for the contractors to show up while I alternated between reading a book about innovation in institutions of higher education, reading articles about Singles Studies, reading more articles about writing pedagogy, writing up this blog, and watching DVDs. I’d set up an appointment with a handyman a day earlier for them to a few jobs: taking out the non-operational laundry hamper from the bathroom wall, taking out the shower door (which would have required me to bend down), replacing a bifold door in the pantry, and putting up a series of ceiling fans and recessed lights throughout the apartment to make it more livable and more modern. After a three-hour window and one-hour grace period with no arrival from said handyman, I went to donate more clothes to the Salvation Army. Between this “handyman” and yesterday’s plumber, I was growing disillusioned on getting anything done in the home. Wednesday: “I get up at seven yeah, and I go to work at nine; I got no time for livin’; yes, I’m working all the time.” Today was more promising; two handymen actually showed up, which put them miles above yesterday’s group. The second handyman mentioned I’d need a new pantry door; they no longer make the tracks and pegs needed for the original, which was pretty scuffed up as is. And the plumber I talked to could actually do the job, at a reasonable rate, and in the next couple of days. Thursday: Today was a bit more relaxed; no contractors scheduled, so I transferred a bunch of things (pens, books, cords) from my home to the office. Thursday’s a jogging day, so afterwards, I went by Ace Hardware to pick up masking tape to write lighting plans for the rooms and post them on walls (thank you, Christina, for that tip). I also put out requests for handymen on NextDoor (why do contractors take so damn long to arrive at estimates?) and put in for a job on TaskRabbit (the shelving unit on the microwave). Friday: A week from the day I closed. And another trip up. I figured with all the back and forth I’ll be doing between DC and North Bethesda, it’d be smart to get the monthly pass. Plus, I’m covered for as many weekend trips as my little heart desires. So I did. I was there at 9 sharp to meet with the electrician for that 9-11 window. I’m getting used to them showing up fifteen minutes after the end of said window; jobs take a while, and that Beltway traffic can be a real doozy. But this guy was sharp; he had good design suggestions for the lights. He charged a reasonable estimate. I also had another handyman come in to look at the bathroom jobs, and the plumber did a great job. Alex, the TaskRabbit, had some suggestions on how to set up my microwave, and he, like the previous handyman, said I would need a door. So he hooked me up with a place that designs and builds them. To be continued. Best news: I got my cat/son Chester’s Emotional Support Animal letter approved. Woo-hoo! And, of course, the plumber did a great job. The icemaker in my freezer works like a charm. So I recognize much of this post was a big infodump. But I learned a few things this week (trial by fire can be effective): 1)Contractors aren’t always looking for your business. Sometimes, they just get too much of it. 2)When part of a condo, there are always additional hurdles. Currently, I have to wait on approval of a Change of Architecture form to be able to update my severely outdated fuse box. 3)The moving-in process always has a lot of moving parts. For this reason, I will need a “Zero Day” or “Nero Day” as they put it in thru-hiking circles. This a day where I do nothing home-related, or at least close to it. We’ll see how those work when I check in again a month into the process. With the rise of singles has come the increase in single homebuyers/homeowners. According to most recent data I read, “Forty-two percent of millennials have purchased a home alone, compared to 34 percent of Gen Xers (ages 44-59) and 22 percent of baby boomers (ages 60-78).” As of May 17, 2024, I am now one of that 34 percent. Being single has given me the flexibility to have a career that’s taken me across the United States: El Paso for my doctorate, southeast Virginia for my first academic job, and DC for a better academic job, which offered me tenure. And while being a nomad for the past fourteen years has been fun and exciting, I entered a stage where I became ready to stay in one place AND make money off my property. When my father passed away, he left me some money for a down payment on a home. I grew up in row houses, so for me, the concept of a detached unit with a lawn and a garage is, well, foreign. I do love to visit them and look at them, but as a single person, I don’t need a large space, but I did want more than the 750 square feet my apartment offered me and Chester. Besides, I happen to like apartment living. My brother, who had recently purchased a townhouse, showed me the “ins” and “outs” of Redfin, such as how to adjust the down payment to see how much mortgage I’d pay. I spent the next few months browsing condos and townhouses in DC and Montgomery County in southern Maryland (closest to where I work). Conclusion: the real estate market doesn’t make it easy for us singletons who only have one income. Affordable places that met my criteria (condos near DC Metro stops) were few and far between. That said, I did find realtors that understood my needs and expressed confidence in being able to help me find what I needed. I “interviewed” five, all of whom answered my litmus test question, “What’s your experience in working with solo homebuyers?” well. I had to ask it; most of these real estate ads feature couples and families (see my hyperlinked article to the left of the parenthetic). One person said, “This is DC. Half my clients are solo homebuyers.” Good enough, true enough. I ended up choosing Jason; I felt most comfortable with his patient, “teacherly” vibe, as well as his in-depth knowledge of Montgomery County. He showed me and sent me to places in DC and Maryland that looked like good fits. But the moment I knew what I wanted was when he showed me a two-bedroom condo, 911 square feet, literally a four-minute walk from a Metro stop. “I’m not a buyer yet, I’m not a buyer yet,” I had to repeat to myself. Jason continued to show me properties, none of which quite measured up to this place (some of those HOA fees went into the thousands per month!). In the interim, I did check out one complex at night, as per Jason's suggestion, which I combined with a nice dinner with my friend and fellow singleton Susan. Finally, on March 10, I became a buyer. And on this first property, apparently my money wasn’t good enough for this first seller, an investor, because he didn’t respond to my offer. Five days we waited for him, then we withdrew the offer. Offer #2: It turned out I was especially impulsive; it was the same location as my first choice, but even closer to the Metro. But, there was so much gutting that I had to be done, including taking out a mirror. Offer #3: Same location, close to move-in ready. An hour and a half after we put down the offer, an investor willing to pay cash and waive an inspection put theirs in. “Back away, not today,” was what that little voice inside me said. From a seller’s perspective, I can understand wanting to sell to that kind of buyer; no worries on that end. From this little solo homebuyer’s angle, grrrrrr!!!!!! Offer #4: This one has lots of space, but the HOA fee was higher than advertised (proofread, people!). Offer #5: I had originally dismissed this place due to its “pet-free” policy. Seriously, my cat/son Chester isn’t going to make anywhere near the amount of noise or do anywhere near the damage a human baby will make. But the laws do value a more traditional “family,” don’t they? Or maybe not. Thanks to the Fair Housing Act, Emotional Support Animals must be let in. And when I’m super stressed, Chester puts his paw across my heart. If that’s not emotional support, I don’t know what is. Bottom line: I liked everything else about this place. The location, the space, the quiet, the trees nearby: And Jason was able to negotiate a good price. And only $506 per month in HOA fees. On March 25 of this year, I officially went under contract. The next couple of weeks were a blur, as I went through the gauntlet of home inspection, making the good faith deposit, buying homeowners insurance, locking in an interest rate (thank you, Josh, for catching that projected change; he got a nice 6.5% rate compared to the 7+ it’s at now).
The storm calmed for the next month and a half as I navigated the usual end of semester chaos. Then came the week before closing. I had to get the remainder of the down payment to Mike, the title attorney. Something I thought would be very simple turned out to be quite complicated. I thought the money would go from my trust to my personal account immediately; no such luck. It needed a red-eye train to get there. I thought the funds I had would go to Mike immediately; again, not quite. I had to make the trip to the bank, but hey, I am a step counter. They did get there. May 17, the closing date, came. I signed my name about 500 times, walked through the unit with Don, the listing agent, and noticed a few things that I’ll discuss in the “Transitioning” post to come. But, we made it! The feeling of “this is my place” kicked in the next day when I parked my car in one of the parking lots to which I have access. I’d been parking on crowded streets, which makes one vulnerable to getting hit by other cars before they speed off, which happened to my rear driver's side door right in front of my building. And when I opened the door to the condo, it fully kicked in. Placing my electric guitar, amplifier, and a few small boxes into my storage space helped me feel a bit lighter. But, as I sit in my empty condo waiting for a handyperson to arrive, I imagine those feelings between light and heavy will alternate. But that’ll be highlighted more in the “Transitioning” post. See you on the other side! “And we’re the three best friends that anybody could have, we’re the three best friends that anybody could have, and we’ll never ever ever ever ever leave each other…”
When I think of The Hangover, my mind immediately jumps to Alan’s ode to his “wolf pack.” While said members of the pack probably don’t reciprocate his feelings, it brings to mind how powerful friendship can be. This is the central tenet of Rhaina Cohen’s new book, The Other Significant Others: Reimagining Life with Friendship at the Center (I’ll use the acronym OSO for the rest of this post), in which she argues that friendship be placed on the same platform that romance is. I’ve always valued my friendships more than romance. Thinking back to my college years, I remember a potential girlfriend ultimately rejecting me after unsuccessfully trying to pull me away from a basketball game with my friends to hang out with her. One could argue that maybe I wasn’t really into her, but I was spending time with friends and I wouldn’t pull away. As I’ve gotten deeper into Singles Studies, I’ve developed a wide array of friendships that give my life way more meaning than any romance ever has or ever could. So I was in a state of enthusiasm as I rode the MARC to Baltimore for a discussion around OSO. I’d hear some discussion around friendship, and I’d get to see Kevin and Alicia. I was initially dismissive of Rhaina when I learned she was married. How dare you speak down from your pedestal! I thought. But Kevin had sent me her article, “What if Friendship, Not Marriage, Was at the Center of Life” and he spoke highly of her, so his word gives a mark of credibility. And she had a lot of good things to say. Most importantly, acknowledged singlism and Bella DePaulo’s work, so that’s an automatic A+ in my gradebook. After devouring a tuna sub at the nearby Subway, I snagged three seats. Kevin arrived first, then Alicia. The crowd around us varied in age, but appeared on the younger side. My guess is a lot of students and a few professors from nearby Johns Hopkins University (the dude next to me sported a hat from the crew team). We started out with an activity, where we were given a post-it. On the post-it, we’d substitute the words “get by” with a word or phrase of our choosing in the Beatles’ lyric, “I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends.” I went with “thrive.” Rhaina ended the event by having one of her friends play the keyboard while we sang “I” and “with a little help…,” while Rhaina reading from our post-it. “Thrive” made it! In between the “fun” were some great ideas. My favorite was the idea of the “relationship staircase,” as opposed to the “escalator,” which can be applied to romance and friendship. I’ve had friendship go through all kinds of high-intensity and low-intensity phases, and they’re none the worse for wear. Sometimes, we’ll go for months without speaking, but then, we’ll pick up where we were at before the hiatus in communication. Could romance be like that as well? Cohen discusses the idea of non-romantic life partners, which had me thinking of this clip. In the Askewniverse, we rarely (if ever) see Jay and Silent Bob apart. And we fans love their antics and can appreciate their bond. Samantha Roth, a psychotherapist who engaged with Cohen in the conversation, brought up the idea of “intimate relationships therapy” as opposed to “couples therapy.” After all, friendships go through rough patches, don’t they? I loved that she changed the title of a course from “Romance” to “Intimate Relationships.” The latter is all-encompassing. Rhaina also asked the audience if any of them had ever had “platonic love at first sight.” I had to think a bit, but my mind flashed back to Mark, whom I met at an Allman Brothers tribute show. He was having a blast at that show and seemed so cool. He had gotten me into going back to live music after a long hiatus. Even though we live a few hours apart, we still hit the occasional DC show together and we hang out when I visit Newport News. And through him, I met my friend Drew, with whom I have inside jokes about “waiting for the bus” and “special guest” (I’ll go into that in a future essay about my friendship with him). And finally, the idea of hierarchy. I have lost friends to romantic relationships; amatonormativity’s a bitch indeed. That being said, that’s the way things are for the moment until ideas like Rhaina’s become more accepted. So I find it’s important for me to maintain a wide network of friendships. This way, if I’m lowered on someone’s hierarchy, I’ll have other friends. Cooking and baking are two of my love languages. I love making food for friends. So, of course, I brought homemade brownies for Kevin and Alicia. I had a third for my ride back to DC. But I had an inkling to hook Rhaina up. I asked Kevin for advice on that, and he said, “Go for it.” So I did. I hope she enjoyed it the way I did her talk. After the talk, Kevin and I made our way across the street to Insomnia Cookies with Joseph, a new friend, who had come to a Childfree Singles Meetup I hosted at Arlington’s Ballston Quarter. We talked work and housing, particularly the idea that the real estate market, like most other things, is not built for singles. I am navigating the solo homebuying experience, and it’s a challenge. But I’m hoping to make it through. This evening jaunt was refreshing, and made much more fun with friends. This essay was presented at the Northeast Modern Language Association Conference in Boston, Massachusetts on March 8, 2024. It is a first draft of a personal essay I hope to submit to a publication.
“Being single as an adult” were the words I typed into that Google search bar that humid Tuesday afternoon. I had recently been broken up with, yet again, and the anger perforated throughout my body. I was thirty-six, had completed my first year in a tenure-track position at a university, and had never been married. Basically, there was something wrong with me. “You need to find someone.” “When are you getting married?” “Don’t you even have a dog?” As I reflect now, those comments had motivated me to get on Match.com, stick it out through bad dates, and stay in relationships that just didn’t fill my cup. And this one was no different – but, I just HAD to be with someone. And I wasn’t. And it seemed like everybody else was. They were good, and I was bad. The academic year had just ended, so I technically had more “time” on my hands to brood about these things. This brooding led me to a Google search, which led me to an author named Bella DePaulo. I saw articles like “Are Unmarrieds Singled Out for Discrimination,” “How Singles are Celebrated and Stereotyped and Shamed,” and “The Many Ways Singles Are Treated Unfairly at Work.” As I read about the privilege bestowed into people who “tie the knot” (i.e., Social Security benefits, higher salaries, and just general social acceptability), my brooding turned into a combination of righteous anger, solidarity, and the feeling of “being seen.” My plans for reading articles about composition pedagogy and writing anxiety were thrown into the trunk as I spent much of the summer devouring the work of DePaulo, in her particular, her 2006 book, Singled Out: How Singles Are Stereotyped, Stigmatized, and Ignored, and Still Live Happily Ever After, brought to my surface every slight and injustice I’d ever felt when I was single. Friends leave you when they get married or couple up. And, even if they invite you along, the coupled make all the decisions. And there are the stereotypes perpetuated in the media: if you’re a woman, you’re a “crazy cat lady” or a “promiscuous slut.” If you’re a man, you suffer from “Peter Pan” syndrome, or you’re a slob who uses pizza boxes as furniture. Even if you do perform the celebratory act of being a parent, you’re “irresponsible” if you dare to do it as a single person. I marked that book up with notes and highlights, all the while thinking, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” I started my second year on the tenure-track determined to combine my love of writing with my newfound love of what I’d come to learn what was the developing field of Singles Studies. I started a blog, Soldiering for Singles, in which I wrote musings about single life. Examples included the unfairness of “solo supplements,” the hypocrisy of “rules” around dating and romance, and, on a more positive note, the value of my platonic friendships. One thing I’ve also learned: “single” does not mean “alone.” Around the time I was experiencing this rebirth, Bella had started a Facebook group called Community of Single People (or CoSP for short), a group of single people “who want to live their single lives fully, joyfully, and free of stereotyping and stigma.” The first sentence on the page’s “About” section is “This group has nothing to do with dating.” I shared my blogs on that page, and they were met with “likes” and laudatory comments. I had found some likeminded folks. On a spring break trip to Winnipeg to see a friend, I had the privilege of touring the Canadian Museum for Human Rights, where I learned about the injustices that face marginalized groups. I got the brainstorm: write a letter suggesting an exhibit devoted to the plight of singles, who face micro-levels of marginalization, such as exclusion from social events, and macro-levels, such as that Social Security law mentioned earlier. I never received a response from the museum, but I was able to use it as an example of how to write persuasively (even if it didn’t necessarily persuade the museum). I continued writing, and with the encouragement of a department chair, I themed one of my courses around Singlehood and Marriage, during which students read Singled Out, along with some unfortunately written book that argued marriage was the only way of living (but we did have fun poking at the fallacies made by those authors. Students were more engaged in this class than they’d been in any other. At the same time, I was developing a global network of friends and colleagues through CoSP. I’d published a series of articles in Singular, an online magazine published by one of its members. I had been teaching myself how to conduct Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA), which had led me to write an article breaking down the films Crossing Delancey and Trainwreck, both of which gave the “couplehood is the only way” argument. Through a friend I had made, I was able to publish this piece, “There Is No Wrong Romance Can’t Right: Heteronormativity in Our Romantic Comedies,” in a journal entitled Feminista Revismos. I’d also connected with Spark: a 4C4 Equality Journal, where I’d published another, which read “Awww, You’re Not Married? Why We Need a Singles’ Rights Movement,” during which I interviewed a group of single academics to see how singlism affected their experiences. My work grew toward writing books. One afternoon, a representative from Kendall-Hunt Publishing met with me and my department chair to discuss the possibility of a customized textbook for our first-year writing courses. During our conversation, I discussed my themed course on Singlehood and Marriage and mentioned an idea I’d be tinkering with: a book for men on how to be single and happy without searching for a partner. So many books had been written on this subject, but they were all for women. I was going to address the gap. And the representative was going to publish it. As that initial feeling of euphoria lapsed, I got up at 5:30 every morning to spend an hour writing. And, to me, the feeling of seeing my name on a published book was way better than pinning a wedding ring on someone’s index finger. That’s not to say I haven’t developed meaningful connections. During the pandemic, I had monthly Zoom chats with Ketaki Chowkhani, a sociology professor from the Manipal Academy of Higher Education in India. Through our conversations, we developed the idea to facilitate the world’s first ever Singles Studies conference: a virtual gathering of academics in different disciplines who study singlehood. And on October 10, 2020, I had the privilege of “meeting” writers whose work I’d studied and admired. Three years later, Ketaki and I released a collection of essays from these writers; we called it Singular Selves: An Introduction to Singles Studies. This past August, I rode an Amtrak from Washington, DC to Philadelphia to meet up with Elyakim Kislev, a noted Singles Studies scholar who wrote a book, Happy Singlehood: The Rising Acceptance and Celebration of Solo Living, which I used in a course I taught, “How to be Single and Happy.” Our discourse lasted three hours and took place in the Philadelphia Convention Center and nearby Reading Terminal Market. At the end of our conversation, I walked away with an idea for a new project: a book in which I break down and analyze the tropes found in romantic movies and how they reflect couplehood as a hegemonic force. Becoming immersed in the advocacy of singlehood as a valid lifestyle choice has not only benefited me professionally, but personally as well. In 2020, at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, I moved from Newport News, Virginia to Washington, DC; such a diverse city fits me way better than the rural environments in which I had spent time. As an introvert, I was one of those folks who, when they told us to stay home, I said “What’s the catch?” I’ve always liked my space. Singles and couples had different benefits and challenges throughout lockdown; speaking strictly for myself, I would not have wanted to be stuck in a house with another person, no matter how amazing they might be. Of course, I was ecstatic when things start opening up, because I could finally develop the kind of social network we singles tend to cultivate. As Bella put it, “Married people have the one, single people have the ones.” First, I joined our local Childfree group, DMV Childfree. The organizer had enough space to allow me to host a Childfree group specifically for Singles. The rules: 1) you must be single, legally and socially; 2) if you couple up, you can stay in the group, but please don’t sign up for events; and 3) it is not a “meet market.” If you meet someone you like in the group, great, but don’t use it as a dating app. As of this presentation, the group has been active for one year, and I’ve made a few close, happily single friends in my local area. These friendships have meant more to me than a romance ever could. The CoSP group has also been a recent source of friendship. I currently have two separately monthly Zoom chats with Kevin and Kamran, two happily single men who’ve I met through the page. We discuss a variety of topics, such as spirituality, philosophy, and classic movies. To me, this beats talking about lawn mowers, strollers, engagement rings, and juice boxes with the other married Dads. Washington, DC is known for its diverse population. One thing I always tell others is, “No matter who you are or what you’re into, there’s something for you here.” On September 17, 2023, I got together with seven of my CoSP tribespeople for brunch at a restaurant called Medium Rare. As I enjoyed a meal of steak, poached eggs, and fries, we talked about being single. We talked about the freedom with which it comes. We talked about how policies that currently favor the married will more than likely become more equitable toward singles, as more and more people go the “singlehood route,” whether by choice or by circumstance. Three months later, Bella DePaulo came to Busboys and Poets in the Shaw neighborhood of Washington, DC to give a reading from her latest book, Single at Heart: The Power, Freedom, and Heart-Filling Joy of Single Life. I hosted a Meetup around this event, during which other Childfree singles would gather to hear her read and discuss these ideas with two other scholars before answering questions from the audience. Kevin drove down from Wrightsville, Pennsylvania, so he’d share the couch with my cat/son, Chester. And the other CoSPers would pack the room. My Facebook moniker is “Chazz Pop,” used so my students don’t find me. “Chazz” is short for Chester, and “Pop” is Dad. Chester’s Dad. And once inside the reading, I kept getting the question, “Are you Chazz?” “Are you Chazz?” In addition to seeing friends, I had the privilege of meeting those on CoSP I only knew by post, as well as folks on the Childfree group I’d never seen before. It was validating. After the reading, about twenty of us took over the back room at nearby Shaw’s Tavern. The conversation about singlehood, and even some non-singlehood related topics, like movies, what is a real Buffalo wing, and the places we’ve traveled to, flowed. For that night, in a world that privileges marriage and coupledom, the singles dominated, and the euphoria I felt lasted at least a week. Current situation: after thirteen years of moving around the country to pursue that tenured professorship, I achieved it this past summer. And CoSP was the first place I went to announce; if I had been married with a child, for me, that would have been much more difficult to achieve. And I’m now in the place where I’m ready to “plant some roots” (as opposed to the matrimaniacal phrase, “settle down”). So I’m venturing into the world of real estate. And the first place I went to for advice was CoSP. After all, solo homebuying is different. While I have considered myself a “lone wolf,” I haven’t been doing life alone. Again, “married people have the one, single people have the ones.” The team of people I’ve built through my journey through singlehood has given my life way more meaning than a romantic partnership ever could. And I’ve had the pleasure of being part of others’ teams, functioning as moral support on others’ journeys and even helping one friend move into her newly bought condo. And I date sporadically, although I don’t approach or navigate it in a way that is societally accepted. It is my hope that as more and more people discover happy lives outside of what is considered “normal,” our society, and laws, will reflect these trends. This paper was delivered at the Northeast Modern Language Association Conference at the Sheraton Hotel, Boston, Massachusetts on March 7, 2024. It is a first draft and part of a much larger project.
Introduction We love romance. We love it on a structural level, as married couples are given privilege in laws and policies throughout the world. We love it on a spiritual principal, as marriage and other forms of coupling are often referred to as “holy unions.” We also love it on our popular culture consumption. Movies and television series often end with characters coupling up. Examples that have nearly every character romantically linked include The Big Bang Theory, Friends, and Sex and the City. Three concepts are exemplified in these representations: 1) singlism, the stereotyping and stigma around people who are not married or otherwise unpartnered (DePaulo, 2005); 2) matrimania, the societal obsession around marriage (DePaulo, 2007); and 3) amatonormativity, the assumption that a romantic union must be placed at the center of one’s live, above all other familial and platonic relationships (Brake, 2012). It makes sense that movies and television shows would propagate messages that contain those three elements; many creators are in marital unions, and the general viewing public believes that marriage (or at least coupling) is the key to happiness. So naturally, they would want the media they consume to reflect those beliefs, and in many cases, provide an escapist ideal for which viewers can hope in their own lives. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is a show that challenges these ideas and represents a form of liberatory activism. Set in the 1950s, it stars Rachel Brosnahan as Miriam (Midge) Maisel, a Jewish housewife who lives on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. In the series pilot, her husband, Joel, tells her he wants a divorce and he reveals he’s been in an affair with his secretary. When she tells her parents, they blame her for the divorce. “You need a husband, your kids need a father,” her father, Abe, says. “Do what you have to do to get him back!” Joel had been attempting to start a career as a stand-up comedian, performing at a small club called The Gaslight. He appears talented, but it is revealed he’s been plagiarizing jokes from other comedians. After Joel’s announcement, Midge is in a Dark Night of the Soul moment. She gets drunk and wanders into the Gaslight, where she had been a patron, supporting Joel in his comedy endeavors. Distraught and despondent over her situation, she walks up on stage and starts talking about her life and divorce. The audience interprets it as an impromptu comedy act and loves it. Midge’s act also attracts the attention of Suzie, the club’s manager, who sees true comedy potential in Midge and offers to coach her. This begins Midge’s arc from dutiful housewife to famed comedian and independent woman. This essay will argue that: 1) Midge is also a Single Person at Heart, a term Bella DePaulo coined to refer to people who live their best lives while they are single, even though she may not recognize her orientation (2023); 2) while singlist and matrimanical comments pervade the show, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel ultimately offers a pro-singlehood narrative, contrary to the messages of most TV shows; and 3) the hatred toward Midge by popular culture writers stems from systemic amatonormativity, which manifests in their lack of acceptance toward her newfound orientation as a single-at-heart person. Midge’s Growing Independence/Midge as a Single at Heart As the series begins, we see that outwardly, Midge is living a traditional life as a housewife and mother, subject to the gender and matrimanical norms of the 1950s. Such norms are intersectional with the “colonial gaze,” as Western women existed in relation of subordination to men. However, her independence starts in the show’s pilot, as she’s influenced by Suzie, who bails her out of jail for an indecency charge, as she bared her breasts onstage. In telling her she has a gift for comedy, she says, “If you’re still upset about your husband, don’t be. He’s a fraud and a loser.” The implication in her blunt statement is that comedy is a much more worthy pursuit for her than romance. When Midge questions Susie’s position, her response is “I don’t mind being alone. I just do want to be insignificant. I want to remembered as something other than a housewife and mother.” These words function as a theme throughout the entire series, as Midge forgoes the roles of wife and mother to pursue her passion. On a societal level, they questioned the norms of female roles in that time period, when it was much more common for women to fill the roles of “wife” and “mother” while excluding all other identities. While under Suzie’s tutleage, Midge learns the ropes of the stand-up comedy world, such as timing her jokes, responding to hecklers, trusting her instincts, and even having a “weird ask,” a quirky request that’s outside the norm, in order to enhance her credibility. Hers is yellow teddy bears. However, she learns a great deal more. One theme in the show is Midge’s growing independence, which runs parallel to a narrative that Midge is finding her way as a comedian during a time period when women generally did not engage in stand-up comedy, and when they did, they had a persona (i.e., Sophie Lennon’s frumpy Queens housewife and Moms Maibley’s toothless old lady). In contrast to this gaze, Midge is finding a style that is based in storytelling and observation, which succeeds in decolonializing expectations of the female comic. The opening scene of the series’ second episode has her walking around downtown Manhattan, a far cry from her ritzy Upper West Side life. She appears dazed and confused as she observes a person urinating on the street, another randomly dumping water out the window, and a dog barking. She doesn’t know about the current events of her time, such as the Civil Rights Movement, Jim Crow, Ethel & Julius Rosenberg, and the Red Scare. She also appears to have trouble understanding courtroom etiquette, as she argues with the judge about the double standards men and women are held to. While such gender disparities are valid and a theme in the show, she doesn’t appear to understand that the judge and court are the authorities in this situation. When she travels for a gig with Suzie, she also doesn’t understand that in most hotels, there is no bellhop to carry your bags; you do that yourself. “I’m open to trying new things,” Midge says upon learning this fact. Midge’s street savvy and worldliness grows as the series progresses, as she grows in her role as a “single at heart.” Early in the series, she observes a group of activists in Washington Square Park to prevent the building of a nearby road. She speaks into a megaphone and even gives advice to the organizer. Later on, she gets her first job, working the makeup counter at a department store. This feature of Midge’s new life as a single female is intersectional with feminism in that “expenses associated with the consumerist lifestyle forced many middle-class married women into work outside the home, a situation that was compounded by their desire to keep up with the “Happy Housewife” ideal prevalent in popular culture during that time (Kearney, 2012, pg. 5). While on tour with famed singer Shy Baldwin, she befriends one of Shy’s musicians and learns about how to determine whether a guy is worth having a one-night stand with. “If his place is dirty, what is the rest of his body like?” is the advice she receives. She heeds this advice and forgoes sleeping with Lenny Bruce, as he lives in a hotel, at least for the moment. In the final season, she acquires a job at NBC, writing for The Gordon Ford Show. The fact that Gordon, a married man, repeatedly tries to sleep with her is a commentary on how, while marriage has a place of privilege in the abstract, many people don’t necessarily take that union seriously in practice, particularly during that time period. While she initially struggles for respect among the all-male staff, her writing eventually makes her “one of the gang.” In the final episode, she’s allowed to appear on the show, despite the tradition that writers do not perform on it. When she’s told she’ll mostly be talking with Gordon about her role as a writer rather than performing her comedy act, as she was promised, she disrupts the tradition by taking the stage and giving her act, which delights the audience and even impresses Ford, despite the fact that he promptly fires her. This night propels her to stardom. Midge’s Independence and Gender Roles Despite Midge’s apparent naivete and dependence on men, she may just be a single at heart. When Midge’s despondent mother, Rose, talks to Trina, her fortune teller about Rose’s divorce, Trina responds, “She’s always been her own girl.” After getting dropped from Shy Baldwin’s tour, Midge takes a job as an emcee at the Walford, a strip club, warming up the audience with jokes before the main acts. Backstage, she crusades for better working conditions, including preventing the club’s male manager from entering the women’s dressing room unannounced. She also inspires the people around her to live their most authentic lives, married or single. Once again, this authenticity in living a single life is intersectional with feminism in Midge’s finding of relatve independence by working outside the home. According to Brown (2012), “feminine discourse” implies acknowledgement of women’s subordination often expressed in parodic form by making fun of dominant culture (37). In this case, this parody extends to married life as the dominant culture, as matrimaniacal comments and actions are expressed in a caricaturistic fashion by some of the characters, even though they may not be aware of the challenges of their own married lives. One such example includes Joel’s mother Shirley attempting to set him up with a woman who’s nine months pregnant; she tells him, “You need companionship, smeone to be with, a good woman makes a good man, where would your father be without me?” When Joel looks askance, Shirley says, “Don’t start.” Why the Hatred Toward Midge? Hatred of female television characters is a popular pasttime among some televsion fanatics. The “I Hate Brenda” anti-fan club launched in the height of Beverly Hills, 90210’s popularity (Amatangelo, 2020). Skyler White garnered much hatred among Breaking Bad fans for being a “bully” toward her developing drug kingpin husband (Lynch, Doll, Gooding-Nieves, Patton & Loughlin, 2023). Similarly, Midge Maisel is unpopular among much of the show’s fanbase for her choices. One blogger from Writing Without Rules: Deep Dives called Midge “a terrible person. She selfishly puts her own needs ahead of everyone else, largely ignores her own children, and lies pretty constantly.” While most people would not condone a person doing those things, we must consider that the matrimaniacal norms of the time period forced Midge into the role of “wife” and “mother.” And when one takes on those roles, they buy into a system with its own rules. Midge broke those rules to pursue her authentic life. One might question whether she is single at heart due to the fact that she married four times after Joel. Before one of her weddings, Midge has this exchange with Suzie, in which she says “I don’t love him,” to which Suzie responds, “You didn’t love the last guy either, that didn’t stop you.” Simply put, Midge is a single person at heart born in the wrong time period, a period where marriage was more compulsory than it is today. Therefore, she is compelled to marry, even though it isn’t her authentic way of living. This reading of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel in terms of its position as a form of liberatory activism may not reflect the interpretations of average viewers nor of other media scholars and critics. Society, particularly the media consumed by it, is not built toward singlehood, especially those who are engaged in happy singlehood. Bella DePaulo’s recent book, Single at Heart: The Power, Freedom, and Heart-Filling Joy of Single Life, interviewed people who live their best lives as singletons. One writer, unprovoked, wrote the following message, cited in her book: Hi Bella, Just want to let you know that single people are inferior in every way. They’re worthless, useless, lazy, and stupid. Ther’s nothing I hate like single people. Anyone single is completely defective, otherwise someone would love them. Now, Bella, I know you found some micro/macro agressions there, but I want you to use all of your Harvard skills to understand it’s entirely your fault. You’re single, therefore you suck. You suck because you’re single. Say it out loud. You are nothing. Worthless. When the book was released, Bella received a lot of fan mail from people who felt the messsage spoke to them, but there was one complaint: Obviously you did not interview me. I am 68 years single and am a poster boy for the conventional thinkers. I wanted to be married, have children and grandchildren. And even if you are married, you can enjoy the solitude you crave and enjoy. Singleness is not a guarantee of privacy, fulfillment and complete enjoyment. It may facilitate it but certainly does not guarantee it. What accomplishments and successes and contributions to society will you have to look back upon at the end of life? Thanks, Steve K These letters, while extreme examples of the hatred toward singles, particularly happy singles, are reflective of societal attitudes toward people who choose to be happy as singletons. Midge is being lambasted as selfish for her choices. Sarah Jae Leiber of the Jewish Women’s Archive called Midge an antihero who feels no loyalty to the people who helped her along the way; Midge has, in fact, been very loyal, funding her mother’s matchmaking business, buying back her parents’ house, and even staying connected with Joel. Maintenance of these ties is an exemplificiation of Elyakim Kislev’s finding that singles are more connected with their families of origin than married people are (2019); yet one can speculate whether she’d receive this same maligning if she had stayed married to Joel. Conclusion In these ways, Midge Maisel is subject to the type of singlism that Bella DePaulodefines and catalogues in her body of work on singles. Viewing The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel through a Singles Studies lens raises many important questions about how we look at more conventional types of shows in which the protagonists sacrifice freedom for romance, such as Gilmore Girls and The Big Bang Theory. Moreover, such shows have the potential to influence how people approach relationships in their lives, including those that may be detrimental to their well-being out of fear of being alone. Future research could approach these shows by studying how single protagonists negotiate their own narratives and experience intimacy outside of romance, and possibly influence some to engage in such connection. References Amatangelo, A. (2020). 30 Years after 90210 premiered, it’s finally time to apologize to Brenda Walsh – and Shannen Doherty. Paste Magazine. Web. 6 January 2024. https://www.pastemagazine.com/tv/90210/brenda-walsh-90210-shannen-doherty Brake, E. (2012). Minimizing Marriage: Marriage, Morality, and the Law. Oxford University Press. Cooper, B. (2012). Boys Don’t Cry and female masculinity. In M.C. Kearney (Eds.). The Gender and Media Reader (pp. 355 - 369). Routledge. DePaulo, B. M., & Morris, W. L. (2005). Singles in society and in science. Psychological Inquiry, 16(2-3), 57-83. DePaulo, B. (2006). Singled Out: How Singles are Stereotyped, Stigmatized, and Ignored, and Still Live Happily Ever After. St. Martin’s Press. DePaulo, B. (2023). Single at Heart: The Power, Freedom, and Heart-Filling Joy of Single Life. Apollo Publishers. “The Exhausting Mrs. Maisel” (2022). Writing Without Rules: Deep Dives. Web. 4 January 2024. Kearney, M.C. (2012). Introduction. In M.C. Kearney (Eds.). The Gender and Media Reader (pp. 1 – 21). Routledge. Kislev, E. (2019). Happy Singlehood: The Rising Acceptance and Celebration of Solo Living. University of California Press. Leiber, S.J. (2022). I’m tired of trying to root for Midge Maisel. Jewish Women’s Archive. Web. 16 January 2024. Lynch, J., Doll, K., Gooding-Nieves, D., Patton, J.M., & Loughlin, K. (2023). How Skyler White became unpopular in the Breaking Bad fandom. CBR.com. Web. January 2024. Rosen, C. (2023). “‘The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’ Reveals Why Joel Went to Jail: ‘He’s Taken the Blame.’ Goldderby. Web. 3 January 2024. https://wwrdeepdives.substack.com/p/the-exhausting-mrs-maisel “I’m addicted to NeMLA.”
So said Moises, the moderator of the panel during which I read a first draft of a personal essay, “Single Does Not Mean Bad: On Embracing One’s Own Lone Wolf Tendencies.” And I’d think it’s safe to say I am too. Elizabeth and I moderated a Singles Studies panel for the third year in a row, and we had some great presentations. From one, I got inspired to check out Bridesmaids; apparently, there’s a pro-single spin I just didn’t see in my initial viewing of the film. And some anger-inducing political rhetoric presented by Elizabeth (gotta love that Matt Gaetz). Two presentations of China’s “leftover women”. And one about characters in Australian fiction. I don’t typically announce projects I’m working on, but I’m in the embryonic stages of a book about singlist tropes in TV and film, inspired in part by that fateful meeting Elyakim and I had back in Philadelphia. I wanted to have a paper I could use for the conference and the book, and my mind went to The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. I had binged on it the prior summer, and found humor and insight in the caricaturistic ways singlism and matrimania is portrayed throughout the show. I found it easy to make an argument that it was a pro-single show which ultimately satirizes that way of thinking. So I spent weeks rewatching, taking notes, analyzing, reading, drafting for that magical twenty minutes of presenting. And I’ll revise again for the talk I’ll be giving on it at my local chapter of the College English Association. And again at the International Singles Studies Conference in July – once again in Boston, the site of this year’s wonderful conference. I enjoyed and learned from all of the talks, which activated my sense of righteous anger at the pro-couple rhetoric and thinking that pervade our world. As for my own work, I thought about ways I could enhance it and make it part of a larger argument in my book. For example, I’ll be interested to look at viewing habits and to see whether it influences the beliefs people have about romance, and consequently, their relationship choices. A social science twist. I’ve been compelled to get some of my CoSP tribe together in person, inspired by that outing we had at Medium Rare back in December, and amplified by that night Bella came to Busboys and Poets, followed by us singletons taking over the back room at Shaw’s Tavern. I have friends from different facets of my life, but when I’m with my fellow singletons, I’m truly at home. So, naturally, I talked to Karen about getting some of us together in Boston. So she made the reservations at Union Oyster House (the oldest restaurant in the US), and we coordinated getting some of us together. And the conversation flowed: books, movies, public transit, the psychological blocks that keep people from New Hampshire, Vermont, and Massachusetts from crossing state lines, and, of course, singlehood. Our waitress was a character too; upon observing the empty plate, which had once consisted of scrod and mashed potatoes, she remarked, “Your Mom would be proud.” She hasn’t met my Mom, but she’s probably right. Friday morning would be the real test – reading about how I found my journey into Singles Studies and happy singlehood in a personal essay, “Single Does Not Mean Bad: On Embracing One’s Own Lone Wolf Tendencies.” I had written a version of this in How to be a Happy Bachelor’s opening chapter, but I’d never actually read it to a live audience. Presenting academic work, no problem now. Getting personal was another story. I’d done this in front of Singles Studies audiences before, but taking it outside raised some questions: would I have to bat down microaggressions? And how I would do so professionally? Fortunately, that didn’t happen. In a panel based around the Impostor Syndrome, Moises talked about the marginalization of creative panels at academic conferences; most organizers only want “academic” work, which can make creatives feel like impostors. And I hadn’t even thought about that; even though I still dabble in creative writing, my Ph.D. work has mostly transferred my writing energy into academic work. So he got it, as indicated in his presentation of the struggles many of his students face as they navigate academic discourse, which can ignite the impostor syndrome. I’ll post my essay in the next few days (bear in mind, it is a first draft). After Moises finished his talk, he called me up to the stage, where I read. And it got laughter in a few spots and some head nods in others; hearing that always puts me at ease. My favorite bout of laughter came when I discussed how my students critiqued the fallacies made in that unfortunately written book, The Case for Marriage. The last presenter, Nicoletta, shared about her experience as an impostor in different identity negotiations, such as a writer/student over the age of 50, a parent to a son with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), and a female teacher in a state that just doesn’t value them as much as they do males. What I recognized is that even though these other two presenters are married with children, they face “othering” in different ways. Very few of us are immune to it. Some of us may just be better at hiding it than others (no pun intended there). Singlehood is just the filter through which I view the world, and it’s where I feel I can do the most good by myself and by others. I recognized this as my fellow panelists and I answered questions about our ideas presented. I talked about the conflation of single men with the MGTOW and Incel movement (folks, we’re not all incels or MGTOWs!). One audience member brought up a question about how the discussion of Singles Studies intersects with conversations about aromanticism and asexuality (short answer, they don’t as much as I’d like to see, but they will eventually). Another wanted to know about how to connect with other happily single folk that don’t necessarily want to change their relationship status. I spoke of the blessings of social media (CoSP did that, primarily). I am blessed to have moved to DC, a diverse city where I often joke “whoever you are, whatever you’re into, there’s a place for you.” Many folks who live in suburban or rural areas don’t have immediate access to such likeminded people, so they need these Internet spaces. I walked away from both presentations invigorated. I had gone old-school with the Maisel talk (just reading a paper), but between the time the presentation ended and the time I’d meet up with Elizabeth to head to the restaurant, I placed my main talking points into a slideshow, with fun images included. With the creative piece, I had thirty minutes to check out of my hotel room and three hours to spend before commencing with the eight-hour Amtrak ride back to DC. So I went on the culinary suggestions of singletons Liz (Falafel King for a chicken kabob roll-up) and another Karen (Mike’s Pastry for a to-go box consisting of a mint chocolate chip cannoli and a peanut butter one). So now I sit on this train, the blues stylings of Selwyn Birchwood piping through my headphones as I write this piece. Two notes: 1) the blues is so ideal for train travel; and 2) I have Sam, who I met while traveling solo to a concert last week to thank for that recommendation. I’m feeling a bit sad to have to leave that space of intellectual discourse, creative juices, and, best of all, pro-singlehood ideas. But I also remember that I’m heading back to the urban landscape of DC, where I have some great peeps and will continue adding to the pro-singlehood discourse, both in an academic and creative manner. Still, I’ll be looking forward to NeMLA 2025 in Philly, just a two-hour jaunt from my door. |
AuthorMy name is Craig. I'm an educator, writer, and unapologetic singleton. When not reading, writing, or teaching, I enjoy hiking, running, watching movies, going to concerts, spending time with friends, and playing with my cat/son, Chester. Archives
July 2024
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