The Crying Stops Here

In ancient times, women were hired to go to the house of someone who recently died and mourn them. They wailed and wept and bemoaned, and I can only imagine how exhausted they must have been at day’s end. The custom continues today, and these women are called moirologists. But sometimes they’re called Your Single Friends.

We tend to think our friends are, y’know, friends. We meet people and decide to spend time with them. We go to lunch or dinner, take trips, watch kids and pets and houses. At some point our fellow singles find a partner. We cheer for them, celebrate with them, buy wedding gifts and baby gifts and like their posts on social media. We mostly do it because we’re happy for them. But in full disclosure, we also do it because gulp—what would people say if we DIDN’T?

If you’re anything less than thrilled for your married and about-to-be-married friends, you’ll get branded a Hater, a Bitter Betty, or Poor (insert your name here). We try not to under-gush or over-gush, but no matter how we actually feel, our feelings will be felt (and expressed!) for us.

A few months ago, I was driving with a friend and she played a song I’ve loved since my childhood. A woman tells a man to put on the brakes because she loves her freedom more than the prospect of being in a relationship. When I belted the song at 10 years old, I just thought it was fun and catchy. As I got older and found myself in the throes of wanting a partner, I belted out the song for old times’ sake. I didn’t think of it as an anti-relationship anthem, but as the theme of my self-discovery. At first my friend and I sang it together, but about midway through I felt a shift. Her singing quieted just as I thought ‘we’re having the best time ever!’ When our evening came to an end, she seemed a bit mechanical. It got weird, even though we hadn’t argued. 

Unfortunately the distance grew, and other events showed me that our friendship wasn’t what I thought. At first it didn’t make sense. I felt like the wife who’s last to know. That’s when my brain returned me to that car ride, to my jubilant, off-key rendition of what amounted to I’m Single And You’re Not. For the first time I got a glimpse of what it’s like to celebrate my status while someone else looks on with less enthusiasm. I realized that I wasn’t doing my job. I was hired to be a professional mourner, bewailing and bemoaning the fact I wasn’t married. For so many of us moirologists, it’s not enough to buy a wedding gift, laugh our way down the Soul Train line and LOVE the social media posts—we have to actively wish we were the people who hired—er, befriended—us.

But being single, like being married, has its upsides. I remember a social media post from a single person who said he was going to post pics of his white couch and sleeping in on Saturdays. I’ve been tempted to say ‘my credit score’ with the same needless gusto some people say ‘my husband’. ‘I was buying a $300 pair of shoes and my credit score is SO AMAZING that I didn’t think twice about the price! #BlessedBecauseMyBillsAreMyBillsAndIDontHaveToWorryAboutSomeoneElsesSpendingHabits’. Oy, can you imagine?

So I’m putting in my notice. The job I applied for is ‘friend’, which means we should celebrate each other regardless of our status. I truly do love weddings, and the more people who find a loving partner the better the world will be. I look forward to meeting someone myself. But in the meantime, can’t you just be happy for me?

Your bright and my bright…