A few nights ago I may or may not have melted down. Like butter in a microwave, one second I was merely in the state of softening and the next — WHOOSH — I was a puddle. It was post date, and while the date itself was fine (for all intents and purposes), all I could do was wonder if I was going to be alone. Forever. And ever.
Crying, worried and frustrated, I drove toward our homestay’s house. Reaching for words of comfort with one hand on a camera, Megan said, “But you won’t be alone.” I asked her how she knew, and she said, “I don’t. But you’ll at least have your friends.” Which didn’t seem that important at the time. In fact, it just seemed frustrating and mildly pathetic.
I could ask what it says about me that I’m single at thirty. I could ask what it says about society, the people I spend my time with, or what it means for the rest of my life. And I probably would have spent the next morning doing just that. But then I got an email and realized one of my very close friends lost her best friend. Like, not just her best friend du jour — but her BFF, the woman she knew when they were girls way back when. Almost three decades of best friend goodness.
Breaks my heart. Broke it then, still breaking now.
And all of a sudden, I realized that while I might be single for the rest of my life (with a plethora of wildly interesting lovers though!), as long as I have friends who have friends who have friends — as long as I’m connected, interested and interesting — I won’t be alone. Yes, I might at times be lonely. But if/when I go, I’ll have people who miss me, people who love me, and despite being single, I’m certain my life won’t have been for naught.
Throughout the course of this trip I’ve usually been really good about keeping my head on straight. So yes, I melted a bit. But I’m resolidifying now. What’s important is not my relationship status but who I am and what I do with who I am. So I sent my friend flowers. She even has a husband. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t need a friend.