Hmmmm. Couples everywhere. Go to a moviehouse and you see couples sitting close to each other. Visit the mall and there are couples everywhere: a tall white guy dragging a dark Filipino woman barely even five feet, old white haired couples, lesbian couples, teenage couples, gay couples, clandestine lovers, all sorts of couple personalities. And it was like, waaaahhhh, is there no life left for the single woman these days?
Let's visit some scenarios in the hospital, for example. A Jane Doe arrives at the ER with no one. Her chances of dying is much higher than if a patient with the same case, even if she has no penny left, arrives with a husband who can run around to look for funds. In developed countries, being a female, by itself, entails a greater chance of dying of a heart attack without any aggressive intervention. Here in our country, a single woman who has a myocardial infarction might not even reach the hospital at all. Single ladies admitted at ward 1 (our female ward) usually end up being ambubagged by interns, deserted by watchers (usually their nieces or nephews), or sent home against medical advise just when it is almost certain they would die on their way home. Female doctors, those really old ones who are undeniable experts in their fields, are grumpy and mean. No matter how much money they have or how elegant their coiffs are, they are simply annoying and are objects of ridicule to some of their students.
Hmmmm. On the other hand, in my current state of singlehood heaven, I am free. I travel, I learn, I explore, I do what I want, I live! And I am still nice! Should I exchange freedom for comfort?
Oh well, there's no use asking this question. There is simply no existing dilemma at all. Singlehood, for the moment, is a necessity, not a choice. It was brought upon me by circumstance, not by decision. For now, singlehood must, by perforce, be the path I should proudly take.
My fairy godmother must be a grumpy single, stingy, niggardly old scrooge. She must have been so miserable about her solitary existence that she doesn't want me to indulge in a few kilig moments with a suitable man. She just doesn't want me to run into my match yet.
Oh geeez. Life's just not fair. It's mean and illogical. It's unpredicatable, it doesn't make sense. It has hot flashes and temper tantrums. Which brings me to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, Life must be a middle aged unmarried woman afraid for her eggs. No wonder Life's a bitch. She must be a spinster too.