Being Single

Lately, I find myself thinking more and more about being single vs being married. Maybe it's my upcoming reunion with my college friends, where I will be the lone unattached attendee; or maybe it's my cousin's wedding this weekend; or maybe it's just boredom. After much reflection, I've decided that people get married for a number of reasons, none of which you'll see in a Hugh Grant romantic comedy.

In romantic comedies, people get married because they have found their soul mate, the one person in the entire world who "completes them." While I like to believe that this is true, I've come to believe that it's not the primary reason that people get married. Instead, I think people just get tired of negotiating day-to-day inconveniences that require more than 2 hands - or perhaps require more height than God gave you.

Case in point: When I went shopping last week, I tried on a cute sundress that zipped up the back. Using my finely honed skills, I did the dance that all single women know well - the "reach around the back and push the zipper tab as far up as it will go, then reach over the shoulder and hope that you can reach it." There's an art to this. You have to manage to get the zipper tab beyond halfway, so you can grab it with your over-the-shoulder reach. You also have to manage to hold the zipper in a straight line as you continue to contort yourself, otherwise the tab won't move. Heaven forbid there's a goddamn hook and eye closure. Now, you need both hands over both shoulders to fish around and try to get those two pieces to come together and fasten. And don't think for a minute that this isn't hard work. I've done less challenging moves in yoga. I've broken a sweat on more than one occasion. I've had both arms go completely numb. I've considered ending my membership at the gym and just practicing zippping and unzipping my clothes for exercise.

So, back to my shopping trip - I put the dress on and started the zipper dance. I managed to get the tab 3/4 of the way up, then it got stuck. It would still go down (thankfully), but would not go up. Afraid I'd pull my arm out of socket or wrench my back, I finally gave up and took the dress off. If I couldn't get the dress on in the store, I sure as hell wasn't going to be able to put the damn thing on at home.

The next day, I met with my book club to discuss Memoirs of a Geisha. We were talking about the men who dressed the geishas, and remarked that we western women did not need folks to come in to help us get dressed. I relayed my experience in the dressing room and suggested that a dressing assistant would come in handy. One book club member remarked, "Oh, you don't have a husband to help."

Based on this, and other recent experiences, I've concluded that women get married so that they have someone on hand to help with back-zip dresses (putting on or taking off), they have someone who can hold the grocery cart to keep it from rolling away, and someone who do the things you don't want to do (ie, find the best deal among cable/phone/internet providers). Not to mention helping you get a bookcase out of a store and up three flights of stairs, and then help put the thing together.

Let's see someone make a movie about that.