WHY I DON'T WANT TO RELY ON A MAN TO SUPPORT ME.

I’ve got a problem. I’ve become a feminist. I’ve never been a feminist before and, quite honestly, I’m not really sure what to make of it or how to deal with it. Before you go off thinking that I’m about to be burning my bra and protesting the male race, hear me out.

It recently occurred to me that I value my education, acquired skills and the mere fact that I have a job and an income. At this point in life there are very few things that are worth more to me than being able to support myself financially, pay my own bills and, as a result, not have to answer to anyone or anything besides myself. Maybe that’s being selfish, not feminist, but I personally still think it’s a little bit more feministy than I’ve ever been in the past.

I have to take a step back and wonder why this whole overarching “job” and “career” and “financial stability” concept is so important to me right now. Why this second? Why do I care?

First off, I realize that at some points during my educational career I worked hard for my grades. Sure, in college I slacked off plenty, but just being in college (physically) was work on its own-- both emotionally and academically. But moreso emotionally. (Hey, it’s tough to learn how to share a living space with conniving girls or to deal with that best friend whose idea of a good time is to get wasted and then destroy property!) Second, I realize that I’m goddamned lucky to have a job during these years that are so difficult financially for most Americans.

After considering these two things, I then think about so many girls my age whose only wish (whether or not they have yet fulfilled it) is to get married and have babies. Now, I’m not about to argue that either of those are bad things in themselves, but I will defend my opinion to the death that there is a proper time and place for these things to happen in our lives. Just as much as it wouldn’t have been appropriate to pop out a few kids in high school, it wouldn’t be the ideal time in my life now, either. I’m 23 and baby, I’ve got this decade to live without the hassel of raising my own family. I need to raise MYSELF before I can be responsible for anyone else. I just envision myself encouraging a child to make their bed or maintain a healthy diet when I don’t yet do it myself. Those alone provide an instant reminder that I’m not ready.

I also have decided that if I were, in theory, to just quit my job to get married and have kids, it would demonstrate a complete lack of ambition. Don’t get me wrong, I understand how challenging it is to raise a kid and maintain a household even without a job. As Oprah says, being a mom is the hardest job in the world. But if I were to marry someone in order to have kids right now for any other purpose other than for love, it would not only be not only unfair to the guy, but really unfair to myself. Why shouldn’t I be in a position to strive to improve upon or advance in my career? Do I really want to have to trust one person’s dealings at work to ensure my own monetary stability? Why should he have to do all of the work outside the house to support me when I have a perfectly worthy college degree?

All in all, it comes down to one thing: I don’t want to be lazy. I’d like to think that I have more personality, education and intelligence than to just give up my outside world to rely on some husband’s paychecks so I can clean toilets and do laundry all day. There is absolutely no reason for me to resign myself to a life at home watching soaps while the baby sleeps. It’s early enough in time that I can still prove myself as my own person out there in the working world while saving time in the future to both have a family and a career.

Besides, the workplace is often the best place for me to get story ideas. And we all know I wouldn’t get to maintain this blog, one of my favorite things to write, if I didn’t have interesting stories. I’d rather be writing from my Cloroxed cubicle than from a rocking chair as a baby spits up on me, thank you very much.

The Beauty in the Breakup

This morning after stumbling into the office I started my very intense and exhausting morning regimen: drinking my Starbucks and reading the news. Tough life, I know. Well, actually, life will be tough if anyone here ever finds out that I have so much free time.

Anyway, I came across an article written as part of a column called Girl Talk: "How A Breakup Boosted My Confidence." (See ). I have no idea who this author Lauren Kusnyer is and for all I know, she could be as unqualified to give dating advice as myself. But her piece was entertaining and, most importantly, full of important points.

At the time of a breakup, the situation feels like the worst thing in the world. Regardless of who dumped who, we find ourselves sad and uneasy that life will change permanently, sometimes in ways we can't even predict. Maybe we can breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that he wasn't "the one" and finally admitting it after months of trying to convince ourselves otherwise. Usually though the negative feelings outweigh the positive. It feels like we'll never escape this black hole that we've suddenly been pushed into. All we want to do is text him and we secretly hope he'll call us and say "Baby, I made a huge mistake."

During the mourning period, it seems like there's no way out. This black hole has suddenly filled with quicksand, trapping us further and further into our sadness. We can't conceive of pushing through our misery, nor can we imagine the hurt dissipating.

Not only does this all happen (please don't hate me for saying that "time heals all wounds") but we can actually benefit from being single and having time to ourselves.

If I hadn't been single last summer, for example, I wouldn't have made the extra effort to befriend the girls at my gym. I probably would have been heading home after my butt's class each week to talk on the phone to a boyfriend. Now, I'm lucky enough to have made a great group of girlfriends who are going to be just as wound up and excited beside me tomorrow as we wait for the opening credits to roll in Sex and the City II. (Any other readers beyond pumped?!?)

Besides this, being single eventually encouraged my will to date. I was able to really get out and experience those horribly uncomfortable situations that every girl must come across at some point in her life in order to be considered a real woman. The hours and hours of awkwardness made me at least start to feel as if I had entertainment again after moving to a new city, while also giving me the experiences needed to fully bond with my friends during girltalk.

I think most importantly, being single allows us to gain freedom and independence. Now I'm by no means a feminist and I am for sure an advocate of relationships when they work well. I'm the girl who firmly believes that unclogging a toilet, no matter whose fault it is, is the responsibility of a man, whereas girls have their own girly pieces of housework to keep up with.

That said, it's really great to spend time on your own and allow yourself to recognize that you can make it alone. No, not only that you can, but that you can do it well. You're capable of filling up Saturday nights without the help of a boy, and you sometimes even find that you're able to dedicate more of your time to activities that you yourself are interested in-- and not those of mutual interest with anyone else. It's important to learn these lessons, especially in order to be mindful of these ideas if and when you breakup with someone again.

So for all of you girls out there nursing broken hearts, remember one thing: it'll get better. It might not seem like it, but it will. It'll get easier and easier till the hurt goes away. And even though you probably won't recognize it at the time, the whole suckiness factor of a breakup will make you stronger and tougher. We can all admit that the free time you'll have to go to the gym really can help with that.

But in all seriousness, enjoy your singlehood. Isn't it kind of fun considering the possibilities of who you'll meet next-- as you snuggle a Chinese takeout box on the couch?

XOXO,
R.