Just in time to depress you for Valentine’s Day, a nevertheless fascinating read in the Washington Post. Titled, “The Single Life: Some People Never Find the Love of Their Lives. And Live to Tell About It,” the article chronicles people in their late forties, fifties, and sixties who have never been married and investigates “why?”
Although perpetual singlehood is an issue in every society, the author, Ellen McCarthy, points out that this is an especially a touchy topic in America, since “perhaps as much as religion, our society hinges on belief in romantic love.” I would argue it is even more of an issue in China, but more on that later. What we all want, the article succinctly puts it, “is for a constant companion who will bear intimate witness to our lives. Who will heighten our joy and ease our suffering. Who will be our designated collaborator and caretaker, sparing us the effort of constantly fending for ourselves.” I couldn’t have put it better. Unfortunately, as the Rolling Stones long ago made us realize, we can’t always get what we want. Or even, it seems, what we need, if the article is correct.
Actually most of the article offers a sympathetic and touching portrait of on one woman, I’ll call her A, and details the path that has led her to be 54 years old and never married. She went to college, moved across country, built a career in media. She dated, took up hobbies and developed a loving circle of friends. For most of her life, she assumed the right one would eventually show up. Now, she thinks there has been a detour. There was one man, a Jewish med student. Her mother loved the man, but A. realized she would forever be in this man’s shadow and broke things off. Her last serious relationship ended at 36. Quoting the actress Diane Keaton’s recent autobiography, she laments: “I never found a home in the arms of a man.”
Another fifty-something woman, let’s call her B, also a lifelong single, offered a slightly different perspective. Her singleness has not been a choice either, but for a different reason. She simply never felt the need to hook up with another person. Throughout high school and college she felt as if she were waiting for a switch to turn on that would finally make her want to find a partner. Then, she realized there was no switch. “No,” she remembers thinking. “This is who I am. I’m single. I love it.” Her phrase for it is “single at heart.” She has simply never had what she calls “the urge to merge. The author points out, I think correctly, that most of the lifelong singles she has spoken to are more like A than like B in that they expressed a desire to share their lives with someone.
The male perspective is offered by Geoff, a 48 year old banker whose story sounds eerily familiar. During his prime dating years, it often seemed that the women he was attracted to weren’t interested in him, and those who did express interest weren’t his type. “As I’ve gotten older, my waist has gotten wider, my hair has gotten thinner and my tolerance has gone down,” says Geoffrey, now 48. Like the people who don’t get included in the unemployment statistics because they are no longer searching for a job, Geoff has given up looking is resigned to perpetual singlehood, which he admits is less stigmatized in men than in women.
There is no moral of the story, no lesson to be learned, which is one of the things I liked about the article and why I highly recommend you take a look at it. It simply presents unvarnished reality. By way of comment, I will say that if singleness is stigmatized in America, it is akin to the bubonic plague in China, especially for women. Fear of it drives them to jump into marriage often before they are ready and not to be too picky about the sort of man they wind up with. Perhaps this is a good thing. With the younger generation of Chinese women, there are some signs that it is changing. And perhaps that is a good thing. Perhaps not.
In China，there is a saying “不孝有三，无后为大”，means“ there are three ways to be unfilial, the worst is to not produce offspring.” (The other two offenses are not listening to your parents and not making enough money to support them when they are old). I guess maybe this can explain a little the huge population in China. :)
In our society If you reach certain age and still are single, you would be under a lot of pressure, from family (as most parents would nag about it nonstop) , from society ( If you are over 30 and still remain single, people would talk about you and wonder what’s wrong with you), and maybe from yourself ( A Bachelor’s Complaint of the Behavior of Married People ).
No one want to be “Leftover Man 剩男” (which has the same pronunciation as Saint Man圣男 / Winner Man胜男 in Chinese), or “Leftover Woman 剩女” (same pronunciation as Saint Woman圣女/Winner Woman胜女 in Chinese), or “Doomed Single 必剩客” (same pronunciation as Pizzahut必胜客 in Chinese. Some genius translated Pizzahut into 必胜客in Chinese, which also means Doomed Winner ) . 剩男，剩女，必剩客，no doubt there is a certain degree of meanness in the invention of these words. You know Chinese people sometimes are mean people.
I think most Chinese would not choose to be single and live under all kinds of pressure. You are right about that at some point most people would not be too picky about the sort of man or woman they wind up with. They are just under obligation to end the single life. But to those people who went through divorce or any failed relationships, they might would rather be single than wind up with the wrong one. Every one dreams of finding the love of life. But not every one is so lucky . C’est la vie!
There are always some exceptions. Here I would mention an extreme case of Choosing to be single. Jin Yuelin金岳霖, famous scholar and professor (Tsinghua University and Beijing University), philosopher and logician, fell in love with Lin Huiyin林徽因 (the beautiful, talented and lucky woman was also loved by the famous Poet Xu zhimo徐志摩), who married Liang sicheng梁思成. But Jin had remained single for Lin till his death. He said “择邻/林而居” --- means he chose neighbors to decide where to live or he chose to live near Lin or the Forest. Her surname Lin can be 邻(neighbor) or 林（forest）in Chinese . So Jin lived close to her wherever she moved, and he and the couple remained life-long friends. He offered Lin help whenever she needed it. Years after her death, Jin invited some old friends to dine out in Beijing Hotel, as everyone was wondering the reason why he treated them , he stood up and told every one “Today is Lin Huiyin’s birthday.” I guess every one would be speechless because after Lin’s death her own husband remarried and Old Jin remained single and still remembered to celebrate her birthday. Wow, man like Jin is the rarest of the rare. Maybe he thought he was lucky he met a woman who made him feel so in love. Single or married, we can not deny that love is the best feeling in the world.