Just noticed that an essay I wrote for Singular Magazine a few months ago has now been added to their website, SingularCity.com.
The essay, The Gift of Being Single, talks about how I used to be one of those women who hated to be without male companionship, but finally figured out there’s worse things in life than eating, sleeping and going to the bathroom alone.
Here’s the top of the piece:
At age 22, I married a man I’d been living with for a year and a half. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision made during a road trip from San Francisco to Reno. The fact that I chose to tie the knot in the divorce capital of the country should have clued me in to what lay ahead. By 30, I realized things weren’t working and moved out on my own. I was miserable. I still remember moping around my studio apartment, writing bad poetry and crying into my canned ravioli dinners. I wailed to anyone who would listen. How could people stand being single? The loneliness, the despair, the interminable quest for meaningful companionship!
And that was after just three weeks.
For the next few years, I fell in and out of a series of unfortunate relationships — sort of like that Lemony Snicket book, only with more sex — but when I hit 35, a funny thing happened.
And here’s a link to the whole hot tranny mess, as they used to say on Project Runway. Speaking of hot, check out that fabulous artwork by John Ueland. I may have to learn to drive just so I can keep up with my illustrated alter ego!