Table for One

February 14th, 2012
Seventeen Months After the Fire

Dear Friends,

It’s February 14th, and this morning I woke up with my little dog Nellie snuggled up next to me, warm and cozy.  I rolled over and looked at her and said, “Will you be my Valentine?” She looked at me and wagged – thump, thump, thump – and then spun around on the bed, flopped over on to her back with her feet in the air, and then stared at me upside down, wagging wildly. I said, “I take it that means Yes,” and smiled. When it comes to unabashed, unconditional love, dogs have cornered the market.

Culturally and socially, there are a lot of messages out there trying to tell me that I’m not supposed to be happy with a little fifteen-pound dog as my valentine today; I’m supposed to feel like a Pitiful Single Person.  Which I do not – most of the time, at least. I’ve learned a lot about being single since my house burned down. Mostly, that there are pluses and minuses to going through a big disaster as a single person.

I think many single folks feel, deep down, that part of the reason for getting married or making a lifetime commitment with a partner is that someone will be there when the chips are down, when things fall apart.  We think, What if something REALLY bad happens, shouldn’t you have a partner there to see you through? Well, yes and no.  Research tells us that many marriages actually don’t make it through Big Disasters, because they put so much strain on the relationship.  As a friend of mine who works as a marriage and family counselor says, “Often people turn against each other, rather than toward each other, when they are grieving.”  My home building and contractor friends tell me that many relationships don’t survive the complex and stressful process of building a house, which is really sad.

Right now a relationship might be a blessing, but honestly, it feels like one less thing for me to worry about. I like being able to build my own house – one that’s designed just for me. I like being able to pick exactly what I want, within reason, and not have to negotiate about every single window, doorknob, and kitchen appliance.

That said, building a house as a single woman is an interesting process. For example, the guy at the tile and flooring place calls me “Dear,” when he talks to me on the phone.  He’s about my age, and says things like, “We’ll find you the right kind of wood flooring, dear, don’t you worry.”  He knows my house has burned down, he knows I’m single, and I think he wants to “take care of me.” And there are moments when that’s comforting, and soothing in a way.  But honestly, I’m professional researcher, a former college professor with a PhD, and I just spent three years as the Principal Investigator for a pretty big training and development project for the U.S. government.  When I present at conferences in Washington DC, no one calls me “Dear,” they call me “Doctor O’Conor.” This is the paradox of being female in the twenty-first century, I think. Being taken care of is sometimes nice, but when does it slide over into condescension? A fine line, to be sure.

The other thing I deal with is what I call “Single Person Invisibility” when I’m in certain types of stores.  If I walk into an appliance store, a plumbing supply store, or any other kind of place that deals with building a home, I am generally ignored.  If a couple walks in at the same time, the salespeople make a beeline for them.  The other day I was in a store that sells beds, the kind that have all these layers of foam and air and fancy push-buttony kinds of things. I walked in, and at the same time, two couples walked in. The salespeople ran over to the couples and said eagerly, “May I help you?” as I stood there by myself. One salesperson called out as he walked away, “I”ll just let you look around…” Which I did, for about ten minutes, while they fussed over the couples, and then I left, never having spoken to anyone. This has happened more times than I can tell you.

Frankly, it’s far more likely that I’m going to buy a bed, or perhaps TWO beds, than either of those couples.  I’ve been doing this kind of reconnaissance for over a year now, and I can tell you that if it’s a weekend, and it’s a young couple, there’s a good chance they’re just window shopping. It’s pretty likely that they have a perfectly good bed at home and they’re just dreaming of a new one someday (a great practice, to be sure – we can all dream.) I, on the other hand, have insurance money in the bank and an empty house to fill. I HAVE to buy a bed, so it would behoove them to run over to me, the single person, and ask if I need help.

But for some odd reason, this is rarely the case.  I’m left alone in all kinds of stores while couples are whisked around the showrooms. I have to search for a salesperson, who usually doesn’t perk up until I tell them my situation, and then they unconsciously look around for my husband, or say things like, “So you and your husband are rebuilding?”  When they realize (after I tell them emphatically) that it’s JUST ME, they have to adjust a bit. Yes, I tell them, I’m making all the decisions myself. Yes, I’ll be deciding on which photovoltaic system I’ll be using. Yes, I’ll be deciding on the hot water system. Yes, I’d like the plumbing set up so that I can flush the system and drain the water from the house if I’m traveling for an extended time period.  Yes, I’d like two extra inches of insulation in the walls, and cellulose rather than foam, which the EPA has some concerns about. Yes, I know it’s more expensive, and yes, I really do want to do that.

One guy actually said, “Should I talk with your husband about this?” at which point I laughed and said, “Nope, you only get to deal with me.”  He finally got the picture, and we sat down and worked it out, cordially. I have to say also that my contractor, Jerry Long, has always treated me with respect, listened to me, and taken my ideas seriously.  He also tells me up front if what I want to do is either a) kind of ridiculous (“Can we build an observation tower above my bedroom?”)  b) really expensive (“Can I afford an indoor pool?”) or c) almost impossible, given the laws of physics (“Hey, how about a spiral staircase leading to a hot tub on the roof?”)

And the contractor who cleared my land, Pat Minniear, used to call me a “force of nature.”  Of course, I would joke, “Which one, Pat? A hurricane? A wildfire? A calm, soothing wind?” and we would laugh. Pat and I are friends now, and have a lot of respect for each other.

So it’s not the entire building industry that makes it tough to build a house as a single woman, it’s a whole culture that is geared toward couplehood. And you know, for the good of us all, I think that’s got to change.  I was listening to an NPR report yesterday in which they mentioned that one out of every two households in New York City consists of a single person, living alone. That’s right, FIFTY PERCENT of the population of that city. According to the US Census Bureau, nearly 44% of the American public is single. And I would surmise that on this Valentine’s Day, most of us are doing pretty well.

So while every romantic comedy tells me that the ultimate Happy Ending is the end of singlehood, I have to admit that I’m pretty happy being single right now. And I think it’s not really a question of who we love, or how we love, but that we love.  That there is love in our lives, love in whatever form – love of friends or family or dogs or cats or your favorite pot-bellied pig; love that will get you through from one hard time to the next, one good time to the next, one year to the next, in this grand dance of life.

Tonight I will not go out and sit at a Table for One. I’m heading out with a whole gang of friends, some singles, some couples, to hear my friend Sharon’s band, The Jamesons Co-Dependent Country Band, play.  They’re a hysterically funny, talented group of local musicians, and we’ll sit in a big group and eat and drink and laugh and dance, and celebrate our friendship and the fact that we’re alive and well and together on this beautiful earth. Nellie will be home, holding down the fort, and will be ready to snuggle when I get back.

And next year, I’ll be home, in my new house, and I may be single, or I may not be, who’s to say. I’m open to what happens, but in the meantime, how about if we dance?

Happy Valentine’s Day to You and Yours, and Lots of Love,

Andi (with Valentine’s wags from Nellie)

All You Need is Love