stereotypical single woman

I’ve never been the kind of girl that has aspired to have a wedding ring on her finger.

Don’t get me wrong, I want a relationship with a man, but I just don’t know if I’ll ever want to get married. It’s not that I don’t believe in marriage, with the right guy I’d be all for it. It’s just that I’m very independent, and I don’t want or need to someone to take care of me. If I ever do get married I want to be married to an equal, someone who will be there for me, knowing that I’ll be there for him when he needs me. A relationship with someone that can make me laugh and think. Someone who will fill up my gas tank (literally, not figuratively you pervert……okay, fine, figuratively too.) Someone who challenges me. Someone who likes (or at least willingly puts up with) the cats. Until I find that guy, and that type of relationship, I’m okay without a ring on my finger.

Last week one of my coworkers and I were talking, she was filling me in on the ins and outs of the job, and she recommended that I wear a ring on my left hand to deter the locals. Normally I’d have dismissed this as the opinion of a simple minded, old-fashioned, stereotypical MRS candidate. But she’s a very intelligent, well-spoken woman. I’m actually beginning to think of her as a friend. So I considered her advice.

I am not comfortable with the thought that I need to be associated with a man to be safe. But sadly, in the world that I’m currently living, not everyone thinks the way I do. And I’m not going to sugar coat it, the new job is a little rough. Last Sunday, as I was sitting alone at the reference desk, I saw four arrests in the eight hours we were open. Peeping toms, pickpockets, and crazy old men clearly off their meds. And they have a tendency to target women. It doesn’t matter if you’re short, tall, skinny, fat, pretty, or ugly. If you’re female you have their attention. A ring wouldn’t guarantee protection, but it might make them pause.

Today I found myself looking at costume-jewelry rings at the mall. There was rack after rack of choices, all gaudier than the last. I’m not a diamonds and pearls kind of girl so it took a long time of browsing before I found something I even remotely liked. I was almost ready to buy it, but it felt so wrong, just way too weird and uncomfortable, to buy myself a fake engagement ring. So I left the store empty handed. I’m pretty sure I made the right choice. After all, then I’d have to make up a fake husband. And fake stories about how we met. And talk about fake problems I’m having with him. In a few years we’d have to have fake kids. And get a fake dog. And buy a fake minivan. And move to the fake suburbs when my fake husband’s fake job transferred him. That’s just too much work if I’m only getting fake laid.

Anyway, according to this thick-headed jackass*, I’m already too old, too educated, and too fat to be married to a man. So really, what’s the point of even pretending? I’ll take my chances on staying single for the time being. And enroll in a couple good self defense classes at the Campus Rec Center.

*according to my statistics someone found my blog by typing in “single woman with cats.” Since I’m always curious to see where I show up I searched as well, and Mr. NoMarriage was the result after mine. I certainly hope he likes supporting his mail order bride for the rest of her life.