A rant: I am not my relationship

Okay, before my mother’s heart starts to flutter with excitement and her head fills with dreams of her only daughter finally getting married and starting to pop out more grandchildren to show off to her friends whose grandchildren are already teenagers or older, let me set the record straight: I’m actually not in a relationship.

But the point of this rant (and it is a rant; let me take a moment to apologize in advance for sounding harsh/judgemental/negative) is still the same: my relationship (or lack thereof) doesn’t define me.

I love talking with men. I love looking at (attractive) men. I hope to eventually be in another relationship with one of ‘em. But I honestly don’t think about it all that much, and enjoy talking about it even less.

This is my observation/experience only, and maybe it has something to do with my age group or whatever: there’s a weird thing that seems to happen when many women get together – whether they’ve known each other for 5 years or 5 minutes. They talk about men and their relationships. Ad nauseum. They dissect, they analyse, they complain, they feel superior, they feel victimized, hour after hour going round and round. I never hear an “aha!” moment when answers are found, issues resolved, and thank god we can now talk about something else.

I can’t explain it, although I guess there are a few theories I could conjure. But they’d likely be as general and meaningless as “Men aren’t socialized to be in touch with their own feelings”.

I have an excellent auditory memory; I remember all the crap I've heard before. All I want is for us to talk about something else. Preferably something worthwhile and meaningful and intelligent. Or, at the risk of sounding anti-social, dare I suggest silence as a preferable alterative?

Honestly, one of the reasons I like talking with men (or my kick-ass female friends) is that I can generally have a discussion about politics/current events/issues/music/film/nature/travel or something that at least I may never have heard before. With my closer friends, I can discuss these topics plus our dreams, our art, our aspirations.

Don’t get me wrong: if you’re a friend of mine and you’re struggling with your relationship (or lack thereof), I promise I’ll be there for you when you need me. But after a while I will want to tell you, “Hon, get another life. You are not your relationship.” I find it particularly frustrating with patently intelligent women with a long list of cool life experiences still persist in fixating on relationships.

I've been a feminist ever since I can remember. It frustrates me that, even away from men, women can be so defined by their relationships with them. It seems such a pathetic waste of time, talent, and opportunity to me.

Years ago, living in the suburbs with nary an eligible man in sight, I guess I came to the realization that life still went on. I started pursuing interests that brought me joy regardless of my relationship status. I enjoyed the challenge of learning Mandarin Chinese (regrettably, I’ve forgotten most of it since) and biked every weekend the weather cooperated and volunteered with a newly-immigrated family who became like my own family. Life became a thrilling challenge and adventure. I was amazed at the life I was starting to lead.

I realized that I could hold myself back in the hopes that I could be easily incorporated into a man’s life as his girlfriend, or I could truly spread my wings and do what I love to do, prepared to be alone if that’s the way it worked out. In the end I think I’ve become more intimidating to men than ever, but whatever. Because regardless of whether I ever date or live with another man, I will always have to live with myself. Flaws and all, I like my own company more and more.

I am the culmination of my own choices.