I Am Bitter and I Can’t Hide It Anymore
I’ve thought long and hard about writing this post before because I was worried about how it would come across. The killjoy. The bitter old hag. There she goes again, drowning in self-pity. Eyeroll.
But it is what it is. So here goes. Raw, unfiltered.
I’m bitter. I can’t hide it anymore and I’m tired of pretending otherwise.
I’m bitter towards myself and the society I live in. I’m bitter about how helpless I am for the cause of my bitterness, how much it’s out of my control, and how isolated I am in this bitterness.
It’s nothing new, I’m sure you’ve heard enough to have an idea about what all this would be about already: love, relationships, and marriage. And it’s not as simple as “Oh God, I’m single at thirty.” The thing about being an unmarried woman at thirty in Singapore is, your life feels stunted at graduation and/or get a job. You can’t get a house here unless you’re getting married or married. The only way to buy a home of your own as a single person is to buy a private property or wait until you’re 35 for the “affordable”, government option. The former is completely out of reach even after you sell a kidney, and the latter honestly feels like a consolation prize for when you’re over the hill. Meanwhile, if you’re worried about having children and love and marriage are nowhere on the horizon, you can neither freeze your eggs (reserved only for medical circumstances, which apparently ageing is not) nor adopt a child (reserved for couples who can’t bear a child of their own).
And so you wait, telling yourself, one day it will be my turn, one day it will be my turn, and somehow, one day starts to get more and more mythical, and bam, you wake up one morning and you’re a bitter thirty-year-old hag.
I managed to keep the bitterness at bay all these years but what’s really exacerbated all this of late, is of course, the pandemic. Because people have managed to find love despite a pandemic. People have gotten married despite a pandemic. People have managed to have pity shags driven by the loneliness of this pandemic. Meanwhile, I have… a new eye cream or whatever I suppose.
Since I graduated, conversations around me have swirled on dating, engagements, planning a wedding, a bachelorette party, becoming a homeowner, renovations, getting pregnant, OBGYN appointments, having a child, maternity leave, baby bouncers, childcare, schools. While I sit in silence because I am assumed to have nothing to contribute. As someone single, I’m just not in a similar boat. And so, I’m kind of overlooked and side-lined during these conversations. I am effectively… invisible. And it hurts in a new kind of way, because not only was I and still am, obviously invisible to men, I’m now invisible to my own friends as well. No one even thinks to ask me about whether they should get a gas or induction stove because I’m single. No one even looks at that for me. So, while everyone’s lives seem to pick up once they find love because they have so much going for them now, it absolutely feels like the world is moving on without me and someone has hit pause on my life. For eight years now. Which is just… what is that? And yes, I know this is an ugly, ugly feeling, but I can’t help it.
And people talk about how they must have done something right or have accumulated good karma for finding the love they did or for being able to get pregnant and I cheer for them. I’m elated for them because I love love after all and I want to see people have it, ruthlessly pushing aside the quiet wonder that crops up more and more of late – So, what did I do wrong in this life or a previous, to have love elude me? And consequently, have my biological clock race ahead, actively deciding for me, while I am still debating motherhood? What were my sins? My bad karma? Even though, I know that’s not exactly how karma works, being born and raised Hindu.
I look back at the post I wrote about how I’ve never been in a relationship over two years ago and it’s hilarious that nothing has changed. I read the words again, going, “Yup. Things are… still the same, babe. I wish I had some words of wisdom for you about finding you, or experiencing emotional growth and transformation, or some inconsequential shit like that, but nope. Everything still fucking sucks.” “So, just settle then,” the voice conditioned by society tells me and I tell it to piss off because I know better. I will rather be bitter by myself than bitter in an unhappy marriage and bring a child into that or construct a home out of it.
What I particularly hate is that a good reason my life feels stunted is because of the way I look. Dating is based on whether someone finds you attractive and swiping left or right, and based on the messages I get, no one seems to be swiping right because they found me attractive, they seem to have swiped right because they decided this should do for the night. As my parents discuss things through the matrimony site, it’s obvious my skin colour is a huge problem. I have had poor self-esteem about dating and relationships since my teenage years, having been deemed undesirable and ugly for as long as I can remember. But while it was one thing to be insulted, taunted and emotionally tormented for being ugly and thus single all these years, it now seems to affect my having a home and children too. Meanwhile, people whom I judge to be morally and ethically ugly get to enjoy all that, while I have… what? The comfort of my clear conscience? Can’t raise that or keep a Le Creuset pan in it, love.
I hate that I’m almost thirty and effectively in the same place in life as a fresh grad. I hate that I’m almost thirty and I’ve never had love. No one to share a home with, no less come home to. No one to argue or flirt with. No one to feel like an intellectual equal. No one to lean on for support or share all of myself with. No one to… care. I find myself moving further and further down people’s priority lists as they grow in their life. And it’s perfectly understandable, I’m not going to complain about that like some heartless monster. But, I don’t remember what it is like to have a crush and I don’t know what it is like to love someone or have someone love and desire me for that matter. Someone who would put me first or choose me over someone else in their life.
And I’ve heard it all in response to my singlehood.
You should enjoy this while it lasts!
I don’t want it to last. And I don’t like that I don’t know if this is what is going to last for the rest of my life.
Oh, you’re single! Good for you, you’re free of commitments and responsibilities! Kids can be such a headache.
Do you want to give up your kid then?
Oh, you don’t know how good you have it now! You’re living a life pursuing your passion, you’re happy, you’re fine.
I don’t feel fine and if anything, I feel untethered. And I feel particularly dismissed and assumed by this comment.
I have a wonderful blog and a community which is a dream I’ve had forever, I have financial stability despite a pandemic, and I have a comfortable life than most. Yet, all that haunts me is, I’m an almost thirty-year-old virgin who’s never had love living in my parents’ house. Because I’m ugly.
I’m not fishing for pity with all this. And you’re more than welcome to judge me for this post because there’s nothing you can say that my own inadequacies remind me of every single day already anyway. I’m only writing this because I just want you to know I’m not the ray of sunshine I seem to be 24/7. Maybe this will be my origin story. Halsey’s “If I can’t have love, I want power” seems like a fantastic way to be seeing things at the moment. I’ll ponder over this while I do my night routine tonight, meticulously tapping on my new eye cream with my ring finger even though I rub my eyes like a maniac when they’re dry. Who and what am I even doing such routines to maintain my youth for while my metabolism clearly suggests otherwise? Fuck knows.
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