So the ring (enough about the ring, Leah, we get it. You got a free ring. Stop rubbing it in.)…
After Yom Kippur I got pretty down in the dumps. I was never able to put my finger on why, but I was shutting down and shutting out friends. It wasn’t until I burst into tears over something stupid at work and asked a friend, “What is wrong with me?” that I realized something was wrong and had been wrong.
She got a metaphorical three-way mirror out and told me the truth. After many long back and forth emails she said, “I want you, Leah Jones, to be the best single person you can be.” To that I’m certain I replied, “Fuck off, there is no being a great single person.”
But then my mood started to improve and I stopped crying. I stopped avoiding synagogoe and stopped getting angry over things like Twitter updates and Facebook news items. I started to think I could date, no that I have. I got a few crushes cleaned up and came to terms with some messy feelings. I went off to writer’s camp and talked to people about writing a book about conversion. People who wanted to read it based on a 250 word pitch. People who thought I was dynamic and cool.
Let’s face it, we don’t always believe our friends and family. It isn’t fair, but when I was 23 I believed Jello Biafra’s assessment of my abilities than I did people who had known me a year. (Me, Jello Biafra, and a Karaoke machine, true story.)
I don’t know if I’ve completely beaten the little monster that reminds me that I’m single. But I am willing to wear a ring, a social object, that declares my status as a single woman. That begs people to ask me about the ring, that means I’ll have to tell anyone that asks that I’m single. And I’m looking. And I’m available.
It’s good timing, I think. This wee bit of time before the Secular New Year. I’m leaning towards declining all invitations this year, I just don’t want to bother with another night that doesn’t live up to expectations. Instead perhaps I’ll make a collage, write a list of intentions, figure out a plan for balancing everything on my plate or go to sleep early and wake up on time.
So, yeah, this time I’m single and I think I mean it.