If someone asked me when I was twenty where I’d be when I was thirty, I certainly wouldn’t have aspired to this – a mountain of student loans I can’t afford to pay, a not-so great paying marketing job that requires me to still bartend on Saturday nights to live a decent lifestyle, a one bedroom apartment that overlooks I-90, and endless nights where I sit and write at my computer and have five minute long conversations with my dog. Oh, and let’s not forget buying all my food from the frozen food section, still hitting (and working) the bar scene, scoping through thousands of hopeless losers on match.com and eharmony and spending long nights with friends lamenting our single status in life as we watch everyone we grew up with get married and have kids.
I’m not going to use this blog as an avenue to proclaim “Yay! Being single is great. I love it.” It’s not fucking great and I loathe going through life on my own. It’s hard. However, after finally leaving a wretched three year relationship, I can say that being single is better than being with someone who isn’t right for me. Having the freedom to look for someone who is perfect for me is highly preferable to wasting years in an unhappy relationship. I already wasted three, and I will never make that mistake again. At least now that I’m single I have hope. I had none while trapped with my ex.
Over fifty percent of marriages end in divorce and I figure a hefty amount (possibly 25 percent) of other fifty percent are miserable but afraid to leave. This leaves 25 percent of the married world who may actually be happy. Of course these numbers are made up, but it makes sense. My point is, the fact that I’m single often makes me feel like I’m totally alone. The thing is, I’m not. There are heaps of other singles in Cleveland and beyond. Not to mention, there are lots of others who remain married or in relationships when they SHOULD be single.
I’m single and refuse to settle for less than love. Is it even possible to find? Hell if I know, but I’m going to enjoy the ride while I try. I’m thirty and single in Cleveland – and this is my story.