Last weekend, I had the pleasure of attending the lovely promise of love made by two great people. Their story is one of love, separation, distance, pain, and love again. Their desire to be together, after so long, is inspiring.
The ceremony took place on a beautiful island, with wonderful weather. I, however, packed my bags with ONLY the wedding in mind and neglected to pack a bathing suit, sandals, shorts, tank-tops, or anything summer-like. I made it work, but it was painful to not be able to get into the pool (the hotel’s store had bathing suits but only sizes I could not wear).
I came to the wedding solo, which is challenging but satisfying. I’ve been single for a long time and financially independent (not rich – yet) for decades, and still the thought of traveling alone hits me hard.
The trip to the airport, the airplane ride, hotel check-in, wedding dinner menu, breakfast, the wedding itself… everywhere the same question: and your plus one? (Me): no plus one, just me. It seems to be a red flag for society to be a single female and have no kids when you are past 40. Male’s standards for everything are different.
But, in spite of stranger’s bewilderment, mosquito bites, sunburn, and massive dehydration, I celebrate love. Single love, couple love, queer love, poli-love, as long as all parties are in agreement to how that relationship works, it’s all good. I’m in search of my peace of being single, I’ve had some rough years regretting not having kids, not getting married, not following my loved one to where he was sent… I’ve regretted so much, been so hard on myself that now I’m slowly but surely finding my space, my peace, my single love.
!Que viva el amor!
Cafecito with a View 