Single, Never Married, and about your Age.

"Are you still single?" This is a question I am asked a lot; mainly by women who are older than me and married. When I answer "yes," I am frequently presented with offers to set me up, "Oh, I know this great guy..." Before I can ask, they say, "He is single, never married, and about your age," as if these are the only criteria I use to find a partner. I know that these women mean well, and singledom isn't something I strive for, but the search for me has been a journey to find someone who understands my essence. This journey is a theme that is prevalent in my artwork as you can see in the painting above, “No Te Olivides Quien Soy.”



To help explain what I am looking for and my journey to find it, I thought I would share one of my recent journal entries.

Tonight I took my dog Digby for a short walk. As we strolled over the wet sidewalk, I could hear a group of early teens coming up behind us. My heart warmed as I listened to their flirtatious banter. I remembered it and the feeling that went along with it.

Tag and kick the can were nightly events my seventh grade summer. Each night, before dusk, we gathered in the front yard and the games got under way. The truth was that I participated in these games because it was an opportunity to feel the butterflies in my stomach when John tagged me and said, “you’re it.” That feeling in my stomach wasn’t something I was familiar with. It scared me slightly, and I didn’t entirely trust it. But at the same time I knew I liked spending time with John and that feeling made me happy. I didn’t realize until years later that those butterflies I felt were the sensation of attraction. John really saw me, and liked me anyway. He felt my heart, and I felt his.

One weekend that summer, I was invited to my friend’s house for a slumber party. All my girlfriends were going to be there, and I quickly accepted. At the party we played games, ate cookies, soaked in the Jacuzzi, and laughed until we fell asleep. Late that night, one of my friends woke me up to tell me that a group of boys had arrived at the house…John was one of them. The other girls seemed to know that the boys had shown up because John was there to see me, because he “liked me-liked me.” But despite prodding, I didn’t go down to meet them. Part of me was scared of getting in trouble, and part of me was just scared of what going downstairs meant. I liked John, but by going downstairs, I would let everyone else know what I had been feeling.

Time passed, and before I knew it, I was in high school. My summers with John were a thing of the past. After the slumber party, the games of tag came to an end, and our relationship changed. John was in a few of my high school classes, but he barely acknowledged my presence. This hurt. How could a guy I had liked, and who had liked me not feel that anymore? I didn’t understand. I hadn’t changed. But not meeting John downstairs during that slumber party had had consequences.

Since John, there have been many boyfriends, dates, and good night kisses. Out of these many dates, there have only been a handful of men in my life who have really seen me and who have felt my heart. The sad thing is, like with John, with these men, I have been afraid and embarrassed of my feelings. I have freely given my heart to the wrong men. And then hidden it from the ones who deserved it. But at this point in my life, I am ready. It isn’t just about finding a guy who is my age and single. Now I am waiting for him to see me, to feel my heart, and to come to the door. This time, I am ready to come down the stairs.