Single People Need Celebrations, Too

When will our cultural traditions reflect the diversity of our lifestyles?

As someone who has never been married, the cultural traditions around marriage and motherhood have always been fascinating to me. When you don’t live within the norm, you notice things that aren’t as apparent to those who do.

For instance, consider the once-a-year social media anniversary post to document a relationship journey with pictures from one’s wedding or first date, how long they’ve been together (usually two numbers — one for their actual wedding date, the other to show how long they’ve been together since they started dating), and a comment about how rewarding and fulfilling their union has been.

While I don’t have any objection to this practice (I think it’s sweet to celebrate your partnership), I wonder why our culture has made us feel that we should celebrate only this one relationship in our lives. Most people don’t post “friend-iversaries.” Most people don’t annually honor their love for their parents or siblings, except perhaps to mark birthdays of loved ones. And we certainly don’t congratulate each other on the deep friendships we’ve cultivated and maintained. Why is that?

And…I’m sorry, but it has to be said…why isn’t it more normalized for single ladies to celebrate their lives on social media? Is it not equally admirable to travel through this life all by oneself?

Why isn’t it considered a social norm for a single woman to congratulate herself for buying a house by herself? For maintaining her sexual standards even after 735 days of celibacy? Or for having great sex with whoever she wants, whenever she wants? For downloading a dating app onto her phone — whether or not she actually uses it? For maintaining a home all by herself with only the income she brings in?

Are we failing to make room for celebration around single people? As a single person, I’d like to loudly answer that in the affirmative.

Over the last twenty years, I’ve watched my friends post photos on social media of their new partners, their engagement rings, their bridal shower photos, their bachelorette party photos, their wedding photos, their honeymoon photos, their pregnancy photos, their baby shower photos… Well, you get the picture.

Again, I take no issue with this. We should take every opportunity to celebrate.

My issue is with the fact that it seems as though only certain rites of passage are worthy of celebration.

It reminds me of my favorite episode of Sex and the City, A Woman’s Right to Shoes. Even though I’m no Carrie, I related to that episode so deeply. Watching Carrie and Charlotte walk down the street and talk about why single women have no socially acceptable milestone celebrations (like anniversaries, like baby showers) made me feel, for the first time, like I wasn’t crazy.

Over the past twenty years, how many celebrations have I had? Only one — when I bought my house all by myself. How many people attended my celebration? Just my dad and his girlfriend. Though there were issues that contributed to the sparse (almost nonexistent) attendance, it was glaringly obvious to me that buying a house by myself was not as worthy a celebration as, say, an engagement.

But here’s the thing: It was a big fucking deal to me. And it sure would have felt nice to finally have people attend an event in my honor and bring me presents and good wishes for the first time in my adult life. I thought it was a huge accomplishment and I wanted to celebrate myself.

It’s funny that it feels selfish to say that. As if wanting to be celebrated for something other than a romantic relationship or motherhood is narcissistic, somehow.

And yet, when it comes to other single women I know — women raising kids on their own, for sure, but also those who are childless like me — I always suggest parties they should throw. Got a Promotion parties, Changed My Own Flat Tire parties, Learned How to Use a Power Saw parties, I Depend on Me parties (“The house I live in, I’ve bought it, the car I’m driving, I’ve bought it…”)

I think we should celebrate being our own knights in shining armor as much as others celebrate their knights-in-partnership. This was so beautifully illustrated by Carrie choosing to be her own knight, insisting that she was not less-than just because she was single. When she chose to marry herself and register for that pair of shoes that had gone missing at her married friend’s baby shower, it made tears come to my eyes. I imagine many single women felt the same when they saw it.

It was one beautiful moment in time when a loud voice in pop culture had the guts to scream: “Single women deserve to be celebrated, too!”

I would love to feel more free to celebrate myself and my solitary accomplishments. In fact, I’m surprised we haven’t gotten to that point yet. There are more single people in America than ever. In 1962, only 28% of Americans were single. As of 2017, 45.2% were single.

Yet, I’m still not seeing much of a shift in how — or who, rather — we celebrate.

I still see single women stepping back, keeping quiet about their lives, just doing their thing and not expecting any congratulations to come their way unless they find a potential mate to stand by their side.

It’s become a bit of a cliché now, to say that our relationship with ourselves is the most important relationship we’ll ever have. It’s the truth, but I’m not sure many people live that truth. If we did, we’d have a culture more supportive of every expression of love, every expression of personal fulfillment, every expression of relationships.

Maybe it’s time we start annually posting our friend-iversaries on social media, celebrating the people who stand beside us no matter what happens. Maybe we should insist that, dammit, all friends and family are required to show up to our housewarming parties. Maybe we should let our friends buy us “I just got a promotion” necklaces and let someone take us out to dinner whenever we make a successful solo home repair.

Because it shouldn’t matter if we are single or married. We all deserve to be celebrated.

© Yael Wolfe 2020