my singleness manifesto

It’s been a slow season of writing for me. My past few months have not been my normal (have they been anyone’s really?), and I’m still getting back into a rhythm.

But, this past weekend, during a call with one of my girlfriends, we started talking about the season of singleness, and this post that I had written in 2016 came to mind. 

It was written in one sitting, on a bright Saturday morning as I sat in a factory-turned-coffeehouse tucked away in downtown Fuzhou.

As you guys know, my journey through the singleness season has had its ups and downs, but this Saturday morning was a particular moment where I was feeling especially grateful for all the luxuries the season was affording me, but also a tad annoyed with the message I was constantly hearing from culture (as well as my relatives) that I couldn’t be single and whole. 

So, the words sort of came in this one long string that was half poetry half stream of consciousness, but all real and lived.

Now that I’m not in that season anymore, I see the great value in it. But also want to apologize in advance for any feminist overtones you may detect in the piece – don’t worry, dating doesn’t mean that you are told what dress you should wear out, or that you can’t go watch “Finding Dory” alone in a theatre anymore.

But hey, that’s just where I was at that point in time, and the principle still applies: that there are going to be things in singleness that you just will never have again in dating and in marriage. 

So, to all my single friends who are tired and weary of this season, I hope you are encouraged. 

Here’s to a flashback to my single 24 year old self during her 2nd year living in China:

If I was single and free, I would be –

like how it is now.

Rain rushing through the wind of my barefoot feet touching dirt, cares left behind in the dust below the pattering of my light feet.

Done with the childish days of old, spent staying up at night with fantasies of boys like the ones in every Olsen twin paperback, because who ever spent nights staying up dreaming of the single life.

But if only I knew, I would have spent my 9-year-old nights laid out in my bunk-bed dreaming of when I would explore back-trails to find half-alive monarch butterflies on pavement, spend silent Saturdays in factory-turned-coffeehouses, laughing wordlessly with friends that share affogatos and endangered words.

Of moving house when I feel like it, racing down a road on a scooter because I want to,  and adopting a dog without anyone to stop me.

I think singleness is the best thing that has ever happened to me, because I would never have known who I really was –

if I was with someone that told me all the time (not that it isn’t nice to hear sweet-nothings whispered in your ear of how beautiful you are), someone that told me what kind of dress I should wear out, or when I have to Skype with them, or why I can’t travel to Korea on my own because I’m a girl.

I would not have known what it is to carry suitcases on my own, or to pay for my own gourmet dinner.

I would not have known the feeling of curling up with popcorn in a movie theater surrounded by strangers watching “Finding Dory” in Chinese, or spending days on days on days with girlfriends with no one complaining of being neglected.

To dye my hair with streaks of red and not worry of what anyone else will say.

To hold my own in the tennis court against guys who hit hard.

To learn what it is to be brave and strong and free.

I think that every woman needs a blossoming time – a space where she can look at a desirable man without desire, and feel like she owns the world.

I think singleness is the best thing that has ever happened to me, not that I was ever not single, but it seemed that somewhere between sophomore and junior year of college, singleness happened to me and at family gatherings, the inevitable question made its way into every conversation: you have a boyfriend?

I learnt to reply boldly and proudly that no I don’t, then proceed to talk about the many other areas of my life that make me a perfectly whole, and happy individual.

No, I don’t need a boy to make me happy.

And in fact, I believe that it is in independence that I learn to be comfortably and truly and healthily dependent.

If I was single and free, I would savor every last minute, enjoy every lingering moment.

I would dance the night away, drink wine from Jerusalem over a game of Scrabble, live like I’m fully alive.

So, to all my single girlfriends out there, I ask you the same question:

what would you do if you were single and free?

Now, go do it.