First Person Singular by Wendy Braitman

filed in Daily Life

Fitting In

December 7, 2009 ⋅  Email This Post ⋅  Print This Post ⋅ Post a comment

I just got back from a weekend with family, for a gathering to celebrate a new baby. Ever since I was a kid–way before the prospect of marriage was on the horizon–I’ve felt like I didn’t belong in my extended tribe. Everyone is gracious, and they no longer ask about whom I’m dating, and whether it’s going anywhere. And I try NOT to imagine the thought bubble above their heads. At most of the dinners throughout the weekend, I was the only single adult (there were more than 25 of us) with the exception of an older widow and a sprinkling of young children.

So it was a relief to be on the plane ride home, where I didn’t stand out as an anomaly, and I could cocoon in peace with the Sunday Times. The first section I reached for is the magazine, until I saw the cover story, staring back at me: Married Happily (With Issues), about a couple “trying to make their good marriage better.” Well, that’s one article I don’t have to read. I shoved it into the seat pocket in front of me, turned on some music and took a nap.

(Image: Girl in a Box, by Japanese pop artist, Yoshimoto Nara, 2001)

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