Last year, during our holiday high-school girl reunion, I was sympathetically told, “Don’t worry, Mol, you won’t be single your whole life.” The friend repeated it THREE TIMES. The comment was unprovoked, as I am not one to spend energy lamenting my relationship status, especially at the time, when I was busy deferring the spotlight from my guy interests in general — I had too much pride to delve too deep into details pertaining to The Kid and his girlfriend. Plus, this time last year, I had only been single for five months after a six-year relationship, so no, I guess I had never worried that I would be single my whole life. The comment irked me even though I think she was trying to be heartening with the words coming out wrong.

I had nothing to hide for this year’s reunion and have remained in fairly regular contact with the girl foursome, so I was excited for our brunch. These girls are great people and I love them dearly.

Brunch was awesome, lovely, perfect chance to catch-up and relax my guard compared to the previous year. When it was my turn in the circle, I told of my life excitement (school! work! travel! busy! but happy!). To which one friend responded, “Well, Mol, have you ever thought about [online dating site]?”

And I looked around the table and each pair of eyes reflected the same mixture of sympathy, quiet encouragement, and … pity. They felt sorry for me.

They felt sorry for the single girl that, at 25, just might be single for her entire life. The old maid of the group. At twenty five.

What hurt the most is that these people had obviously not heard a word I said. When I told of my new life – the two jobs and school and new house and how I rarely have free time and how I am always so busy but loving all that I do –all they must have heard was single! single! single! Because I don’t have a man, my life is LACKING. Did they not hear all that I have been doing? Do they not realize the lengths I have made in the last year? Did they not think to question all the other areas that fulfill me? My life isn’t lacking; I’m just single. It’s not cancer; I’m not in need of a cure.

And yes, maybe if I had spent time saying, oh poor me, I am so lonely or all my life needs is a man – then fine, totally suggest online dating like it’s a new, novel concept on that Internet thing that all the kids have been talking about. Sure, give the recommendation. But I wasn’t bemoaning the woes of singledom. I LIKE this single thing. Also, the male gender isn’t completely devoid from my life; I told a few stories about my prospects and adventures in dating –I was WITTY, goddammit. It is ENTERTAINING. I ENJOY it. And really, if I wanted some dude, just to have some dude, I could probably get one, considering that I don’t have a club foot or three nipples or weigh 800 lbs (or maybe I do, you guys don’t know, I could totally being lying to you, what other reason could there possible be to explain that I am single?).

And these are my friends that went to college and have successful careers – I never would have expected that type of sentiment from them. These were supposed to be my feminist friends.

I realize their intentions were well- meant, wanting me to be happy in all areas of my life (blah blah), but really, how disappointing. Disappointing that they don’t know me, they don’t realize what else is out there, that that is who they are. To them, my life will always be lacking without a man. If I were the competitive sort (I totally am), I would have been tempted to go around the circle, pointing to each and telling them each how their lives are lacking (boyfriend cheats, has never left American soil, financially dependent on a dude, fiancé is seventeen years older) – but luckily, I’m above that.