When I used to hear the word Spinster, like in my twenties, I immediately conjured an image. That image usually looked exactly like Miss Edna Gulch:
Original Spinster
She rides a bicycle probably everywhere, year round (check), she has impeccable posture (check), she appreciates a smartly tailored outfit (check), she dons an appropriate hat (check), she wears a frown as tightly knit as her brow (check), she can’t wait to steal happiness, joy, love, and hope from anyone engaging in said activities around her, especially the young and innocent…Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Here’s where I disagree completely with the days of yore concept of a Spinster’s attitude. I believe very strongly in love. In fact, I’ll say it, I’ll proclaim it: I love love! I think it’s a powerful emotion to be enjoyed, respected, honored, and cherished. I have felt it deeply on many levels and am grateful for every moment, no matter the outcome. What music would I listen to and be moved to tears by if I didn’t adore amour? What movies would I watch repeatedly if I did not smile slightly to myself when the sad, lonely girl montage ends and we find the male lead running through inclement weather to say “I choose you!” 50% of my library would have to be burned leaving nothing but books of science to gaze longingly at the empty shelves wishing for the other 50% that made them feel so cozy.
If I compare myself to the famed Miss Gulch, I note that my constant frown is more from the genetic coding that created my features, the corners of my mouth turn down instead of up. That’s all. Not out of practiced anger. Anyone who knows me will tell you, I spend most of my days laughing. My brow is often furrowed because I’m usually thinking intently. I do not scowl at those couples so clearly on date three, en route to one of their abode to consumate, who stop hurriedly walking only to make out under a street lamp. When I see one half reach over and take the other’s hand out at a restaurant, I usually catch myself grinning. I am like a thief stealing sights of the small behaviors of couples in public; the door being held open, the hand on the small of the back, the thumb rub, the hair smooth, the wink, the held gaze, the deep sigh and my personal favorite; the fanny pat. If I’m at a bar with you, you’ll lose my attention if a couple begins to make out. It’s rare I relish anything as much as watching people who are so overwhelmed by lust, love, and infatuation (ok and booze) that they drop inhibition and public ceremony to suck face. I may not ever be one to do it, but I will watch it like a Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon, for hours.
And so, I call today’s Spinster out. I say do not feel jaded and cynical about love. Celebrate it. Get to know it. For example, I know too many single people who loathe going to weddings without a date, or worse yet, finding a date they are not even interested in being in the same room with let alone at a formal reception. I fail to see how someone else’s nuptials have anything to do with my relationship status. Just as no one is paying attention to my dress when a gal all decked out in white lace and tulle is running the show. It’s not my party. It’s a party I have RSVP’d yes to, so I better show up. I have been invited to take part in a celebration and so that is just what I do at a wedding. I celebrate in my best fashion. I always take a picture of the groom when he first sees his bride in her dress walking down the aisle towards him and I mail the couple a copy. I exclaim “Mazel tov!” as loud as your Nana Roz. I am the first to join the dance floor, always engaging the fathers of the bride and groom. I hug the mothers tightly giving a genuine congratulations. I cry during the ceremony, I cry during the father/daughter and mother/son dances, I laugh and cry during the speeches, I raise my glass high during the toasts. I do NOT, however, make out with groomsmen. I do not search the wedding party and guest list for single studs. I sit where I’m assigned, I make conversation with the whole table and I enjoy myself, because this day is not about me, this day is about my friends and their commitment to each other. They have decided that regardless of their mate’s annoying habits, despite their paralyzing fear, their own parent’s failed marriages, their own lineage of broken hearts and disappointments, they are choosing each other and saying yes to love. What is not to enjoy in that? Facing fear and defeat and saying not us, not this time. We will be different. Our love is unique. And it is because they made it so.
Now, I haven’t been to a wedding with someone I love in, well, now that I think of it, I’ve never gone to a wedding with someone I loved. I usually go by myself, even when given a plus one option. What’s the point of bringing some “I don’t dance” heal along, I know I’ll have a good time by myself. A solid Spinster knows this of herself. I encourage the Spinster of today to renegotiate her view of those in love surrounding her in life. If we look at big books of religion and philosophy a common theme is repeated in that jealousy will get you no where but your own personal place of penance and pestilence. I’ve heard my friends who’ve gone through program repeat to no end “compare and despair.” It applies here perfectly. I can’t stress enough, a proper Spinster knows herself and her place in the world and is happy with both. It is a robust situation and need not tolerate jaded, scornful comments on other’s joy no matter how unstable it looks. No matter if you know one of them is unfaithful, no matter if one of them just propositioned you on the way to the bathroom. No matter if one of them just cried to you expressing their total panic about never knowing another partner. No matter if they are getting married after only knowing each other for a few weeks. No matter your own personal experience with an attempt at love. Just as we cannot always expect others to understand our own choices in retirement, hobby obsession, continuing education and the like, it’s simply not fair to make that judgement on a love when we have not put on those insensible heals and walked around in them in frilly lingerie in front of that man your Aunt Linda refers to as a “greasy bo-hunk.”
