A Single Girl’s Reflection

Flickr, a photo by kevin dooley on Flickr.

Last night I ventured out of my comfort zone: paying a visit to Tante Pola (not her real name, of course!); my parents have known them since before I was born, my dad being in the same Naval post as Tante Pola’s husband. I’ve been meaning to drop by just to wish her Merry Christmas – thankful for all her kindness to my family, especially during my late brother’s stay in the hospital and later during his funeral.

Visiting her is something I’ve been dreading – I just could not stand to be in the same room as someone who has the ability of seeing another dimension. I love my 3D view of the world, thank you very much. The Earth is scary enough to live in that I don’t want to bother seeing monsters, except those made by Pixar! Plus, I’m a science teacher, for goodness sake. Every matter is made by God, I agree, but each and every one is made up of atoms, and the atoms are made up of protons, electrons and neutrons! If you want to get further down the quantum physics lane, googling MIT would help..

As soon as I sat down, her words came unleashed like water pouring out of a broken dam. The amount of words-per-minute coming out of her mouth could turn Pinocchio into a heaving breathing little boy! She used to be a stewardess for Garuda, and there were plenty of life experiences thrown out into our conversation. She stated that her ‘ability’ was put into good use since her Garuda career, and the former CEO of Garuda once called her after he learned about her ‘paranormal activities’ during several flights. Now that she’s retired, she resorted to giving free advice to her friends and families. Did I mention that she could ‘see’ the non-Pixar creatures on Earth? Mercifully, when I almost peed on my pants after hearing about her last visit to my house (with a friendly advice of turning on some lights at night at some strategic place, and throwing some salt around some rooms..), some guests arrived to celebrate her grandson’s birthday. Phew!

deep in the forest
deep in the forest, a photo by andrew evans on Flickr.

As the evening wound down, and I was about to leave her house, she started asking me about that ‘dreaded singleton’ questions. It always started with a compliment: how independent I am (aside from the fact that I’m living with my parents!), how smart I am (seriously?), how logical I am (no wonder I teach Physics!), and how serious I am with my teaching job (which I’ve just left). Then she inquired: “Do you want to be (single) like this forever?” Errr.., is that a trick question?

To tell you the truth, I’m only bothered by my singleness on several occasions: 1) when my singleness status is the topic of any conversation, including a job interview; 2) when anyone tries to be a matchmaker to me and the other match-ee; 3) when I find an interesting single (often, younger and occasionally married) man easy to talk to. But I don’t explain these things to Tante Pola – I just don’t see how she would understand my situation. However, she’s quite adamant about her ‘seeing eye’ that at the moment I’m being pursued by 2 men (other than my former students, probably, who lo and behold, heckled me in front of Celebrity Fitness PIM!) and that I’d have to start praying for an end of my singleton era. I’m telling you, she’s like a fairy godmother who, instead of fulfilling my wishes with a single swoosh of her wand, gives me a test with an open-ended question.

It’s not like I don’t want to get married and settle down with a Prince Charming. I’d love to have my own kids, even though they come with their own trials and tribulations. I’d love to wake up to an unshaven guy, and fix him a morning coffee or tea. I’d love to have a discussion over which mutual funds to pick, or why we should support a certain political figure, or what kind of school would be best for our kids. It’s just that, I don’t think at my age I’d ever find someone (who spent his undergrad study in the 90’s and listened to the Dave Matthews Band) who would share the same passion and would accept me just the way I am. Too much of Bridget Jones, I know.. Please help!


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