The Single Lesson - Profs and Pints DC

Photo by Rachel Perrone
​
After lockdown “ended,” I’d seen a lot of ads for Profs and Pints talks on my Facebook feed.  So many interesting topics.  One April afternoon, I had a “why the heck not” moment and promoted myself as a speaker on singlehood, complete with CV and a PowerPoint I give on Singles Studies.
Much to my pleasant surprise, in July, I received an email back from Peter Schmidt, the founder, inviting me to speak at some point during the summer.  As I was preoccupied with setting up the new homestead, I politely asked him if I could get back to him in the fall.

​Which I did.  I would have loved to present it during National Unmarried and Single Americans Week, but this single person has a full life.  There was a Sunday option, September 15: I’m going to see the New York Giants come into town to play the Commanders with a Meetup group devoted to Giants fans who live in DC (I don’t follow football closely anymore, but I’m hoping to get some New York vibes).  There was Monday, September 16, but with Joan speaking to my writing class on the 17th, I’d like to space out my responsibilities.  So I went with Tuesday, September 3, the day after the Labor Day holiday.

The day before, I was consumed by nerves.  I’ve given talks on this subject before, but this time, people were paying money to see me! My fear was that my anxiety would consume me, I wouldn’t be able to sleep, and consequently, I’d be discombobulated during the presentation.  I reached out to the CoSP tribe for good vibes, and of course, I got them.  Lots of “you got this!”  “Just do what you do!”  And my favorite: “Forget they’re paying.  There’s also confirmation bias at play; they’ll just like it because they’re paying.”  At one point, my self-talk turned from, “They’re paying me for this!  Ahh!” to “They’re paying for this! Cool!”  And then I realized: I’m making it.  This is an important topic, and it’s meaningful to enough people they’re willing to shell out $15-20 of their hard-earned money to see someone talk about it for two hours.  From there, I was able to calm down.  For inspiration, I watched The Dirt, that Netflix movie about Motley Crue’s rise/fall/rise again.  When I was writing How to Be a Happy Bachelor, I felt connected with the movie’s portrayal of Nikki Sixx, Crue’s de facto leader, as he had a rebellious vision and worked fervently, with the help of his buddies Vince, Mick, and Tom, to make it come alive.  I felt pumped up after that.

I didn’t sleep much that night, not due to anxiety, but because Chester kept waking me up by meowing, as he does pretty much every night.  But he did comfort me during my mid-afternoon nap, which I needed after teaching two eighty-minute classes, both of which involved me presenting the first major assignment of the semester, which causes the occasional panic in students.  So I have to expend some emotional labor helping to put their minds at ease.  My colleague, Alex, also was present when I showed up for my morning office hours, and he wished me luck, saying “You’re so good at connecting your work with the community!”  That gave me additional fuel.

More fuel: at around 10 a.m., Peter emailed to tell me the show was sold out at about 100 people.  A little burst of anxiety: even after seventeen years of teaching and presenting, I’d never spoken to that many people at once.  But hey, it meant people wanted to learn about this compelling topic!  So, good for you, Craig!

I had a few last-minute brainstorms before the subway ride, including promoting CoSP and Childfree Singles of the DMV.  When I got there, I was surprised to see Penn Social has the feel of a sports bar.  Guns n’ Roses’s “Paradise City” blared from the speakers as I met Peter.  From there, I placed note cards by each seat for some interactive exercises (I am a writing teacher!). 

The crowd filtered in.  I met a cool guy named Marcus, as well as my fellow childfree friends Rolf, Maria, Steph, and her boyfriend Steve.  Andrew had tried to buy a ticket, but he was beaten by the mad rush of interested parties.  Do check out Maria’s newsletter, Heart-Centered DC, here for awesome spiritual nourishment.

During that talk, I felt more exhilarated than I’d ever been during any presentation.  There was laughter in the right spots, especially during my favorite line, where I critique the phrase “other half/better half.”  I pause, squint my eyes, and say, “So I’m only half a person?”  It got laughs when I presented it at UDC last year as well.

Some great comments and questions came up during the Q&A, including the following:

• An example of singlism in medicine is when women are routinely denied tubal ligation because “you’re not married” or “you’ll change your mind.”
• Are there issues involving declining birth rates, and how does this connect to Singles Studies?
• Do you have solutions for the loneliness epidemic that don’t involve dating? (Answer: yes.  Check out this article for my thoughts on that matter.)
• When do you see laws becoming more equitable for single people? (Answer: many, many years down the road.  This is why we need to advocate now.  As my friend Karen agreed, “We’re playing the long game.”)

And I was pleased to see the light bulbs going off in the audience when they shared their experiences of singlism, matrimania, and amatonormativity.  It’s corny, but I really do learn from students as much as they do from me.  This applies here as well.

At Kamran’s suggestion, I brought a copy of Singular Selves: An Introduction to Singles Studies, the collection of essays Ketaki and I labored to compile.  I got a quick brainstorm and decided to bring a copy of How to be a Happy Bachelor, along with some copies of my business card to create a small display at the table nearest me.

After the talk ended, I had the chance to talk to a few people.  One person thanked me for giving asexuals and aromantics a shout-out.  Another, an aide to a politician, mentioned the possibility of collaborating on some policy work; I gave them the information for Unmarried Equality.  Hopefully, some magic can happen.

After feeling like Tony Robbins for two hours, I walked back to the subway and retreated into the land of the undead; I couldn’t even read my book (My Salinger Year, loaned to me by my fellow activist Christina).  But it was nice being able to unwind without having a human conversation.  I closed out the night by microwaving a bag of Skinny Pop and watching an episode of The Wonder Years.

It was tough to get out of bed this morning, but the 9:30 class I taught beckoned.  I had been on a cloud, but once my students came calling, I was right back down to Earth.  But I’m happy to know the Media Relations Director at UDC will be interviewing me later this week, so who knows the synergy that could happen?

And the best part: I was invited to present at another location.  Next stop: probably Baltimore.  Stay tuned.