I’ve reached That Point of my twenties apparently.
The wedding bit.
I’m quite pleased about it, really. I love love, I love new dresses, and I love free prosecco receptions. So weddings are pretty fun for me, all in.
But here’s the rub – I’m single. Chronically, and happily.
And single people at a wedding make couples uncomfortable. Maybe they think we hate love, or that love hates us, just because we’re not in it.
Maybe it’s just hard to know what to talk about.
So I shouldn’t be fazed when, attending my childhood friend’s wedding, gloriously stag, serving Atonement vibes in my green satin dress, the inevitable question comes up:
‘Rebecca, do you have a partner?’
Thud.
The atmosphere at the table goes from helium balloon to lead zeppelin.
It’s the girlfriend of an old pal asking. She’s being friendly, and, wedged among a trio of couples, it’s nice to be included.
But you’d think this girl had leaned across the Balmoral chicken and asked if I had the hacked-up remains of the bride’s grandma in my clutch bag.
Five pairs of eyes study the linens, and this lovely lassie looks like she’s stepped in a pile of something unpleasant.
‘No,’ I say back. Let me tell you, reader – it’s really hard to inject ‘but that’s alright by me, truly’ into a one-syllable word. But I try.
And then? They wait. Five pairs of eyes rise back up, fixed on my face. Bright. Expectant.
And I wonder what they’re waiting for, for about four seconds, before I realise – they’re giving me the floor.
They’re expecting me to explain why not.
They want the story – breakup or wild child, tragedy or comedy, it doesn’t really matter which. All that matters is the drama.
Sigh.
The Rebecca Show is a tried and true hit
This was not my first rodeo with the panting nosiness of smug coupledom.
And in a lot of ways, I get it – you’re settled, and if all goes to plan, you’re never going on another first date again.
You won’t have a breakup haircut, or a revenge dress. Your summer horizons won’t be flung open with the possibility of a fling and you’re well past the days of having a phone full of butterflies to check under the table.
It’s fun to live vicariously through someone whose present holds a certain nostalgia.
Well, fun to hear about.
And I’ll admit, sometimes it’s fun to tell.
There’s nothing I like more than cracking open a bottle of wine with my engaged best friends and regaling them with episodes from my love life.
You’ll never believe it… he’s going out with my downstairs neighbour now!
I went on a date the other day, and we were served by _____!
Guess who texted me the other day?
The gasps! The rapt attention! The eruption of conspiratorial giggles at the grand finale of that week’s instalment of The Rebecca Show! I love it.
We clink and cackle, and it’s funny – because I’m in on the joke.
But here’s where being the Fun, Single Friend becomes a fine line to tread. Because it may sound like your favourite new Netflix sitcom, but for me it’s reality.
And when the listeners go home to their own lives, sated with an earful of anecdotes and a bellyful of laughs… I stay there. Living my life.
A life which mostly consists of Not Dating.
What is a writer without any good stories?
Between work and dressed up dinners, family and phone calls, good books, forest hikes, skating sessions and writing books, most of my days are spent Not Dating.
gorgeous gorgeous girls write silly little poems in silly little books with their silly little names on them. @bookleafpub THANK YOU for the best early Christmas present.
I GOT MY BOOK! #urbane #amwriting #newpoet #IGotPublished pic.twitter.com/7MRqgVNUox— Rebecca Baird (@grammourpuss) December 24, 2021
But somewhere along the line, as everyone coupled off, my singleness became not just another part of my story – it became the only part anyone wanted to hear about.
‘Well Rebecca, what the goss?’
‘How’s it going? Any man-drama?’
‘What’s the latest then, met anyone lately?’
If your love life is not going to conform, at least let it entertain.
I used to do it. Lay out all the messy and the awkward and let them gawk all over it. After all, what use is a writer without any good stories?
And I have mine curated so carefully at this point, they feel more like a film I saw one time than memories from my own life.
I know just how to hit the right beats, to play up the hilarity and blunt the heartbreak with a carefully-honed witty remark.
I’ve known for a long time that in a world where coupledom is the dominant social currency, I can get a decent exchange rate on friendship with my crises and cringes.
(Alexa play Nothing New by Taylor Swift.)
But standing at that wedding, surrounded by strangers and saying “no” as a full sentence, I realised I’m bored reciting these tired tidbits.
It’s not my job to entertain couples, simply to justify not being in one.
I forgot that. It’s easy to forget.
So, partnered people – next time you see your single friends, remember they’re people; not primetime telly. And maybe ask about something (anything) else.
Or at least let them eat their chicken first.
