I'd seen so many friends change and fade away from me when they entered into relationships. (I admit I'm not immune from this characteristic.) I never wanted to be like that because I don't believe that one person can or should be everything to you. (Part of this has to do with monogamy, but that's for another day.) I proudly claimed the label quirkyalone, a term that is defined as
Quirkyalones are people who enjoy being single (but are not opposed to being in a relationship) and prefer being single to dating for the sake of being in a relationship.
Quirkyalone is not anti-love. It is pro-love. It is not anti-dating. It is anti-compulsory dating. We tend to be romantics. We prefer to be single rather than settle. In fact, the core of quirkyalone is the inability to settle. We spend a signficant chunk of our lives single because we hold relationships to a high standard.
Are quirkyalones loners? Not necessarily. Quirkyalones often value friendship very highly. We're often very social people. But we do value occasional solitude. Quirkyalones are often creative and need time alone to allow thoughts to fully form.
The definition still fits. I love that coupledom is included in the concept as well, under the term quirkytogether. You can still be yourself when you're in a relationship! It seems that people so rarely know this. And it is possible to have a completely fulfilling life as a singleton. I was in high school when I started thinking I might never marry. Part of this was because I was fighting hard to stay in the closet, and I associated marriage with patriarchy and men, neither of which I wanted anything to do with. But I had several excellent role models of women who were spinsters (I mean this in the best possible sense) and they fucking rocked. I wanted to be just like them. And I decided in junior high that I wanted to adopt a baby (more on birthing later, too) regardless of whether or not I was in a relationship. I had plenty of friends raised by single women and it didn't seem bad. I always knew I wanted children, but I didn't see this as having anything to do with a relationship.
Trouble is, I'm a hopeless romantic. And, as Melissa Ferrick puts it, It's also true what you've heard about me; I fall in love every time. I've had some scrapes with unrequited love, and at this time last year, having been celibate for over two years, I was sure at last that I would be single forever, that a romantic relationship was not something I was meant for.
And then I met her. I was totally fucking blindsided by Luckdragon. Every minute we spent together made me quickly revising my thinking. After four days, I fell hard in love with her, real love, in a way I'd never felt before, a way that made me realize I had never been in love before. Who was this person I was becoming? And she felt the same way about me. In fact, she had, literally, ordered me. After her last, awful break up, she put out a request to the universe, writing down a list of what she wanted in a partner. And I am everything on that list. I always thought about relationships from my point of view, never from the other person's perspective. We think about what we want, not what we have to offer.
We have our differences, of course, but we are perfect for each other. We are compatible in a way I never thought possible, and I know it sounds saccharine, but it's true. I'm optimistic, but I'm not stupid. I know things won't always be perfect. I know we'll have our problems. (The major one for the first year of our relationship is that we live 1000 miles apart.) I'm sure there are things about this that I am naive about. But I'd like to think that my years as a singleton have prepared me for married life; I knew what I didn't want to become and what I didn't want my relationship to be. It doesn't really matter that we're getting married (though I'm having a ball planning the party!). We've made the decision to be permanent, cohabiting partners, whether the government or my grandmother accepts it or not.
And even though I never thought I would get married, I didn't count on Luckdragon; I didn't want to partake in the institution of marriage in the abstract, but specifically? Yes, I do want to marry Luck. I wouldn't want to marry someone else, just her, my sexy, dreadlocked, goalie chef who always thinks of others before herself, who knows her poet-partner so well that she proposes in the poetry section of a used bookstore with a ring made from falling stars. And she will refuse to assimilate and have a normal life or a normal marriage, and abnormality is the only kind I can imagine.