Happy Alone

*So according to L, I’m a bit of a feminist. It is strange, as I don’t really believe this. Perhaps my nom de plume is in fact a Tara-esque alternative personality that marches through Sydney sans-bra, angry placard in hand, rather than my true self who secretly loves cleaning and cooking. Anyway, L commented that Germaine would be tremendously proud of the following article. I don’t know if I am insulted or grateful. Hmm. Maybe you can decide. For now, I’m off to insert pretty pictures to separate the words and lessen the hateful impact.*

Newspaper columnists, relationship advisors and agony aunts all love to try and incorporate some scientific evidence indicating that Male Retardation is an evolutionary fact, and therefore the task of the woman is to overturn evolution and change someone.

Ergo, when you fail to stop your man’s retardation, it aint your problem, its just evolution talking.

Sorry, but that’s kind of fucking bullshit. I am particularly enraged by the concept of the man as a serial seed-spreader, with the woman as a nurturer. Man as lone, woman as communitarian.

Why? It’s fucking evolution. It’s history. It’s engrained.
Pretty sure other things historical include a world without the Pill, female emancipation, and no planes, trains nor automobiles.

The past pretty much sucks…. Let’s not use it as a bastion of bullshit.

My number one vent my spleen of the day: the anthropological assertion that women naturally seek relationships, whilst men are pretty happy free-wheeling/free-balling/pretty much being free.

To me, this is a total misrepresentation. I could pretend to be a serious journalist and go and seek out some facts and figures to reconcile my assertion, however let’s be honest… I only usually write here when imbued with the spirit of Tanqueray, and have other things I should be doing, such as my Media Law readings.

So instead, I am going to rely on purely anecdotal evidence (aka my observations of my friends).

My friendship circle is mixed, and whilst dominated by females, provides enough perspective for me to comment. We have the odd few who have been in long term relationships, however for the most part we have acted as typical young adults and drifted in and out of both meaningful and utterly ridiculous relationships. For the most part, we were content with whatever our current status happened to be.
Of course, there were always grass as greener moments, be it a New Years Eve spent without a special someone, or the time spent nursing your partners’ hangover. But generally, we were all ok with whatever came our way, and spent our days living life rather than pining over what was missing.

Therefore, sorry general societal consensus, but as a fragmented microcosm, we prove you wrong.

Furthermore, it seemed that the men were far more willing… in fact more needy to be in a relationship than the girls, who enjoyed each others’ company more than a partners’. Is this telling? I don’t know. Just a rant-natured observation on my part.

So where does this personal misconception stem from? It seems human nature demands a mate. This is natural, it’s evolution and all that. However this social competitiveness regarding a mate which seems to devolve to desperation? Where is that from.

This is not the answer, but just another observation. We all accredit Sex and the City as being in some way empowering due to its popularity surging the female perspective on relationships to the forefront of our collective consciousness. Too much has been written about the false feminism emerging from this bastion of Noughties pop culture, and so I won’t repeat what those more talented than I have previously espoused.

However, I do feel that it has stigmatised singledom. We must be categorised, with one of four ‘characters’ personifying us and our relationship behaviours. Am I a needy, clucky and desperate Charlotte, or just a plain old Samantha- desperate whore.

In any case, I am still condemned to the worst case scenario- I am desperate. I am unsatisfied with what I have. Therefore I am unsatisfied in life… why, oh WHY would I let society and culture condemn me so?

Instead, I choose to identify not with fictitious representations of relationships and life, but with my own experiences. Am I a failure when not in a relationship? No. Am I a better person when loved by someone? No. I may be happier, I may not.

But I shall celebrate wherever I shall find myself, as despite what evolution, television or anyone else attempts to tell me, my identity is derived from my own sense of self, rather than my Facebook relationship status.
Whew… now lets go burn some bras shall we?

***end rant: apologies. Here's an old, but pretty song for you.

Xylophones yay!