Charming, but single

If anyone’s reading this — and I doubt anyone is — he or she will probably want to know some of those particulars they talk about to aspiring reporters. The who, what, whys and whatnots. I could just start right in the middle of all of it, but context is a brilliant thing.

I am a woman, 25 years of age, who lives in a medium-sized, terribly boring town in the South. Call me S. I don’t feel the need to elaborate other than those scant details. I’m not going to be saying or feeling anything throngs of women (and men) haven’t said or felt before. So, I figured, “Why bother elaborating with a full biography? I’ll be anonymous and proud of it!”

I am unattached, hence the title of the blog. I also think I’m a little bit charming, also per the blog title. I wasn’t trying to pat myself on the back by calling myself “charming.” A blog’s gotta have a title, and so “Charming, but single” it is. (The title is also a nod to the way people describe single people — “She’s single, but she’s really bright!” or “She’s so charming and put together, no one can figure out why she’s not dating someone.” When people note that you are unattached, they often quickly follow that statement with a quick mention of a positive character trait, as if they must balance the horrible negativity of saying the S-word. It often comes out sounding like a backhanded compliment, which is often the (unconscious?) aim of the speaker.)

No, I do not believe that you must be dating someone to be happy. If that were so, I’d probably NEVER smile.

This, however, brings me to the why.

Everyone around me is obsessed with pairing up. To be blunt, there’s a lot of pressure out there to jump on the marriage train and get your ticket punched, for better or for worse. ( I’m supposed to, at this point in the narrative, assert that I am in no way husband hunting. And I’m not.) I am, however, a bit fixated on relationships and dating and the stigmas attached to both the single and the committed.

Thus, I’m writing this journal. I love to write. I constantly have thoughts rumbling around in my brain, begging to be digested. This journal will provide me a place to do that. (To complete the metaphor, I guess the blog is the stomach and insightful posts are nutritious food for thought, while self-indulgent, whiny, bitchy or otherwise flawed posts are simply the leftover crap.)

I’ll try not to crib too much from Sex and the City — but I make no promises. The only chick lit I’ve ever read is Bridget Jones. I can’t promise I won’t be shrill and self-deprecating, as Bridget is. In fact, I can pretty much assure you that I will, at times, be a bit psycho. Consider the blog lifelike in that respect.