I'm thinking of one of my high school teachers, whom we called a "confirmed bachelor". We whispered rumours about how he lost his fiancee tragically at a young age. The story gave this quiet man an aura of romance and possibility, but we had no idea if it was true.
Twenty years later and single myself, I find myself wondering why we told that story. We treated it as fact, a necessary explanation for why a perfectly nice man was single. Today I see that story as proof that, as long as we're not psychopaths or living in an abbey, single people are treated as if there must be some heartbreaking reason for their condition, beyond the happenstance of life.
Countless movies, books, televisions shows, musicals and operas teach us to believe there's someone out there for everyone: Just wish on a star, or get a makeover, or take a chance and boom! True love will find you. So if you haven't found that person - or lost him somehow - people have trouble understanding why.
This assumption that I'm wanly pining for someone is pinned on me all the time. People assume that I still yearn for my college boyfriend or that I'm madly in love with my gay best friend of over 20 years. To me, my life seems whole, busy and full as-is. But others seem to think it lacks an important quality - a partner.
For some, that glaring absence can be explained only by some horrible flaw I must possess or a love gone wrong in my past. Although I have many faults, I've never noticed that folks who are in relationships are perfect. And when I look back at my romantic history, I think: "That's a lot of bullets dodged."