As I sat alone in my dark apartment this weekend, I had plenty of time to reflect on all the ways the world discriminates against single people. I had decided that would be my column topic, just in time for Valentine's Day.
The world expects a lot from single people. We're expected to remember so many trivial things, it's no wonder sometimes the lines of communication break down and we're left sitting in the dark with no television, Internet or source of light to break a long and lonely night.
We have to remember to check our oil and buy gas if we want to be able to drive anywhere. I'm not saying I need a guy around to do that sort of thing, because after my beloved car died in November after I put off getting an oil change for 10,000 kilometres too many, I've learned my lesson. But it would be nice to have a reminder every now and again.
We're also expected to remember other seemingly trivial things – so many of them, in fact, that it's virtually impossible to remember them all.
We have to remember when the milk in the fridge expires so we can dispose of it before it gets lost in the back, only to be found months later, practically a biohazard. We have to remember when we're running out of dish soap, laundry soap, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner and bread and there's no one home conveniently waiting for a quick phone call while at the grocery store.
Sure, we could write ourselves a list but with no one to remind us that we've run out of pens and paper, eyeliner on the back of a receipt only gets you so far.
Being single also means not splitting the rent, which means not affording a place that lets us have dogs. I'm a firm believer that single people are the ones who need dogs the most so that's just pure discrimination. Not only are we denied the companionship of a relationship but we're basically pressured into becoming crazy cat ladies, even if we think cats are evil. I know from experience that cats make very poor dog substitutes.
I'm capable of surviving on my own. I don't need a relationship to manage the day-to-day things that happen in my life. Before everything went dark on Saturday night, I fixed a toilet all by myself. Well, with a little help from Google.
I know how to put air in my tires, check my oil, cook a decent meal when I try. I can do my laundry without sorting the whites from the colours and without any ill effects. I can do just about everything, when I set my mind to it. The trouble is setting my mind to it.
One of the benefits of relationships, as far as I can see, is relying on two brains to remember ordinary things instead of one. Chances are, if I was involved in a stable, loving, and long-term relationship, I wouldn't have spent my Saturday night sitting alone in the dark after my final light bulb burned out, because someone would have noticed months ago when the first one went out that it was getting progressively darker.
“Hey,” they could have said. “What's up with this darkness?”
And I could have replied, “Oh, some lights have burned out.”
To which they would have replied, “Oh, well! Maybe you ought to pick some light bulbs up the next time you are out.”
“Eureka,” I'd have exclaimed. “Why didn't I think of that?”
Problem solved. The darkness would have been held back for a little while longer.
Instead, I spent my Saturday evening in the dark, staring at my broken television that no one had reminded me I ought to have replaced when it first broke four months ago, wondering why I hadn't ever thought to buy light bulbs or a night light or even a flashlight.
It's a tragedy. And definitely why I prefer Groundhog's Day to Valentine's Day, as far as February holidays go. That's a holiday that anyone can get behind, whether you're single, dating, married, divorced or just confused. It's a holiday for the Everyman and Everywoman out there, no discrimination in the inherent makeup of the holiday.
Unless, I guess, you're a rabbit or a guinea pig and not a sacred groundhog but that is a topic for another column to ponder another dateless Saturday night.
Oh yeah, also: Happy Valentine's Day. I guess.
