What's Wrong with Being Single?

Acknowledgements

I am greatly indebted to all those who shared their stories with me during my research for this book. Without them this book could never have been written.

My thanks go out to:

Dr. Glenn Marron, with whose suggestions and direction, I was able to overcome the obstacles that I was facing before starting to write.

Mairead McAllester who, with her generosity, inner wisdom and healing power, enabled me to achieve my life goals.

Stephanie Show, for her encouragement and belief in me throughout the years of our friendship.

Linda Potter, for her profound care and great wisdom and also for introducing me to Mairead McAllester in the first place.

Peggy Martinez, for her kind heart and positive thoughts.

Sharon Zaret, my lovely friend, for her unwavering enthusiasm and moral support—I needed it.

My fabulous book design, editorial and production team at The Floating Gallery (TFG), New York City: Joel Hochman, Hoang Nguyen, Wendy Bonadio and Laurence Leichman for their creativity, enthusiasm, knowledge, perfectionism, honesty and, most of all, their unflagging support.

Charles Aug, my boss and friend of seven years, for letting me conduct my business from home so that I could devote the time to write my book—all my loving thoughts.

Tracy Saint Benoit, my dearest friend and sister, who believed in me even when I didn't.

Frederique Jorjani, my talented brother, for the great cover photo. My warmest thanks.

I dedicate this book with great love and admiration to the spirit of my father, Dr. R. Jorjani, which has been with me and has supported me from beyond until today.

My mother, who dedicated her life and love, and for her great strength and self-confidence as a single parent—it was not always easy in her generation of yesteryear.

And finally to my daughter, who has always been my greatest inspiration in life and my number one fan. All my love and best wishes.

Preface

Forget THE RULES ... Forget VENUS AND MARS ... STOP trying to find a man ... WHAT'S WRONG WITH BEING SINGLE? addresses the abuse aimed at society's largest and most misunderstood minority: SINGLES.

For too long, single women have had to put up with the questions and innuendos:

How can you stand being alone?

How come you're not married?

What are you waiting for?

What's the matter with you?

Are you a lesbian?

Is something wrong, dear?

Why can't you get a man?

A nice girl like you...

Meanwhile, the statistics speak for themselves: divorce rates are surging through the roof, spousal abuse is skyrocketing, couples’ counseling is becoming the fastest-growing form of therapy, and the courts are clogged with vicious child custody battles.

How much of this obsession, this push on the part of so many people and institutions to force people to couple is social conditioning, religious edict, or cultural imperative? And what are the results? Loneliness, age discrimination, and physical looks bigotry. Where does that leave so many of us? I believe it results in an urgency to conform and a belief that we can only be okay if we get fixed by someone other than ourselves.

I believe our society has become bigger than that and is ready to encompass new ideas—those old notions have become passé.

Few single women, fortunately, know the kind of emptiness and loneliness that can come from a loveless or dysfunctional marriage. Our biggest mistake is buying into this crazy notion that it is somehow an awful thing to be alone—or, to be more specific—to be without a man. Even singles clubs and dating services are ultimately dedicated to the proposition that all people must be coupled off.

Making marriage the only goal in life is truly a risky business for any woman to undertake. It can be a trap. I have met too many women who have more faith in their husbands than in themselves. They expect happiness to come from their spouses and lovers rather than from themselves. And when things get bad, these women's lives unravel. I think that we, as men and women, are here not to compete, but to complete. And looking at the levels of unhappiness and abuse that exist in the world, it almost seems that marriage is something we've created to punish ourselves.

This is not to say that single women don't fall victim to some of the same pitfalls. But there is an alternative for all of us—to recognize that there is a choice we all can make. I've come to believe that if you are one of those women who has everything except a husband, then you truly have everything! I know this will sound a little odd, but perhaps the only need we should have is not to need at all. Life truly belongs to those who belong to themselves.

The goal of this book is no less than to finally put an end to the raw deal that many single women—and men—have gotten over the centuries. It seems that singles, when not simply being bombarded with the most humiliating questions, are forever being herded into the mating game. In the extreme, single women have found themselves running the gamut from being ostracized and ridiculed to having their sexuality questioned.

With that in mind, I'd like this book to serve as an inspiration to those who are living a life filled with uncertainty, doubt and fear—all because of our culture's emphasis on marriage at the expense of any other lifestyle alternative. That kind of narrow-minded view only leaves a whole lot of us on the outside looking in. I hope you find this book alternately funny and daring—a pragmatic look at coping with relationships that offers simple and valuable advice. At the same time, it is a book of spiritual growth describing the sensations of self-love, healing, freedom and inner peace that come from opening ourselves to the profound awareness surrounding women's existence.

I find it strange that while everyone desires freedom, most are content merely to yearn for it. What's Wrong With Being Single? is for those women who are tired of being dependent on someone else for their happiness.

I'd like to help heal those of us who are suffering from the unthinking, but nevertheless, sharp and painful remarks inflicted upon us by our society. Many women are enjoying life as singles and feel they don't have to prove anything to anyone. They are independent, freedom-loving souls. After all, freedom and self-love are the keys to true happiness. Creating a foundation for ourselves, learning to achieve on our own, discovering how to live as independent human beings and, finally, teaching our children—these lessons are perhaps the best life has to offer.

—Maryam Jorjani

New York City, 1999

One

The Nightmare

My heart beat with excitement as I slowly walked along the shore of a beautiful tropical island. A profound calmness traveled lightly throughout my entire body and mind. My hair danced freely on my bare back and the wind caressed my breasts with its soft touch.

Everything was perfect. I knew he would be there. Before long, I saw him strolling towards me, the sun behind him. As he approached, I watched the silhouette of his tall, perfect body come into focus; he could have been the God of Handsomeness. Without a word, we joined hands and walked along the edge of the water, where the ocean makes eternal love with the shore.

The entire world was bathed in a colorful blend of gold and purple. I felt I was one with the Earth and the universe. I broke free from his grasp and danced while he, his golden-blue eyes filled with love and desire, adorned me with his loving gaze as I revolved round and round. I felt the sun's energy passing through him and into me, giving me the life that I was living at that moment. We were like the sun and the Earth; he, radiant and strong, and I, filled with life to give. At that moment I knew I wanted him.

I danced into his arms, where the sensation of his touch gently burned me with the flames of desire. We kissed passionately, his lips wet and warm. He was whispering something in my ear but I couldn't hear him over the sound of the ocean. We fell upon the sand, and I felt its grainy warmth against my back and in my hair as his strong body pressed against mine. I had never experienced such intense feelings or such passion. We were part of each other, and seemingly part of the universe itself. I yielded to my desire, allowing myself to be enveloped in euphoria, when suddenly the jolt from a deafening sound threw me out of his arms and into total darkness.

For a moment, I didn't know where I was. Then that explosive sound repeated, this time louder. My body was covered with cold sweat and I was trembling as I opened my eyes and looked around. With total disappointment I realized that I was in my Manhattan apartment, in my bed, and the phone was ringing off the hook. I looked over at the clock next to the phone. It was 3:30 a.m. I thought for a moment, Somebody had better be dead! as I pulled myself together and picked up the receiver.

Hello, I croaked. There was no answer, but I could hear heavy breathing. Great, I thought, I almost made love to the most gorgeous man in the world, in the most beautiful place at sunset, and some crackpot wakes me up in the middle of the night so I can listen to him breathe! Just before I could say something nasty and hang up the phone, I heard a voice, a familiar voice. It was my friend Alexandra, and she was crying hard. Now I was wide awake. It took a few moments, but as I gently asked, What is wrong? she finally managed to speak.

Alexandra was one of my best and dearest friends, and I felt guilty for my earlier thoughts. Alexandra had a beautiful five-year-old daughter and a great husband, Lloyd, who, only two weeks ago, had taken Alexandra to the exclusive Tiffany's store on Fifth Avenue for her birthday, carried her inside like a newlywed bride and bought her beautiful diamond earrings. Oh my God, I thought, please don't let it be him or her baby. My hands were trembling and I tried to talk but nothing was coming out. My throat was dry and I couldn't even think straight when finally she started to talk. To my astonishment her voice was full of anger and pain rather than sorrow. I was afraid to ask her any questions, and when she felt my silence she asked if I was still on the other end of the receiver. Then she started to tell me what had happened.

"Two weeks ago, one of Lloyd's hometown friends came to visit and they were spending a lot of time together. Lloyd showed his friend around and tonight, like the last two weeks, they went out together. It was after 1:00 a.m. when I started to worry that something was wrong, but I waited another hour, until the feeling got so strong that I didn't know what to do. I called every hospital and police station that I could think of, but came up empty. I panicked, thinking that he could be dead somewhere and no one knew about it. I started running around the house looking for something—I didn't know what—anything to give me some clue to his whereabouts. Then, in one of his coat pockets I found a matchbook from a local hotel, and I remembered that his friend was staying at this very hotel not far from our house.

"I dialed the number that was on the hotel matchbook cover and was soon connected to Lloyd's friend's room. I tried to sound calm, but I knew I didn't. I asked if Lloyd was still with him and to my surprise he said, ‘Yes, he is sleeping because he got drunk and couldn't drive back.’ I asked if I could talk to Lloyd and his response was, ‘No, because he really is passed out,’ and his friend claimed that he couldn't wake him.

"I thought that maybe Lloyd was dead or badly hurt, and his friend didn't want to tell me yet so he could prepare me for the worst. You know, when you are delirious you don't think straight, and I was far from thinking straight. All I wanted to know was if Lloyd was okay. I asked him why no one had called me to let me know what was going on, but there was no answer. Call it ‘woman's intuition’ or whatever, but my heart was pounding with rage and I knew something was not right, because Lloyd's hypoglycemia prevents him from drinking too much.

"I didn't want to continue talking to this man anymore; I wanted to see my husband. I didn't really know Lloyd's friend—I'd only met him once and even then, I'd gotten a bad feeling about him. Besides, he was making me more nervous. I hung up the phone without saying goodbye, and with no further thought I grabbed my keys, jumped into my car and drove to the hotel.

When I knocked on the hotel room door, his friend opened it with total surprise. Behind him on the sofa was a woman with sheets wrapped around her body. I ran to the other room to find my husband, and there, instead of a drunken husband, I found Lloyd very active in bed with another woman.

Alexandra started to sob very hard as she continued her story. I was dumbstruck and didn't know what to say. What can anyone say to a friend who just found her husband in bed with another woman? I could only cry with her and feel her pain and suffering. My heart ached for her, but I couldn't do anything else but just listen and pray for her to get through this with as little pain as possible. Although I was still very upset and hurt for my friend, I was relieved that nothing was wrong with her child.

It was after 5:00 a.m. when I finally hung up the phone. What a nightmare! It must be horrible, I thought, to go through such a painful experience. I leaned back against the headboard of my bed. I had a pounding headache, and I knew going back to sleep would be impossible. For a brief moment, my beautiful dream came back to mind—a perfect man in a perfect surrounding. No wonder he only came in my dreams, though—having a perfect man is a dream! Men are great until you marry them, but a perfect husband, now that's another story. A morning beam of sunlight filled my room with an orange glow, something like the color in my dream. I had two more hours before I had to get ready for work. My face was still wet with tears and as I looked out the window at a beautiful sunrise, I felt sad and angry. I couldn't believe this had happened to Alexandra. She was all lady, with a master's degree from an Ivy League school. She was a great wife and mother, and she was very pretty. I knew, even if I tried, that I couldn't comfort her at this moment.

Eventually, Lloyd told Alexandra that those two women were from a topless bar he had taken his friend to for a fun night out, and the encounter didn't mean anything at all to him. At least I could believe him that much, but not Alexandra; she was one of those women who believed that Lloyd would never cheat on her, and in all honesty he had never given anyone reason to believe he would. For the most part, he was a wonderful husband, crazy about his daughter and about Alexandra. He almost had me convinced that if there are some men who don't cheat, he might be one of them.

As their friend, I was very disappointed and sad because I knew Alexandra much better than I knew Lloyd. She was both stubborn in her beliefs and a bit insecure. This is not going to be good, I thought.

I sat in the same position in my bed for a while, not wanting to move, not really having the energy to move. I closed my eyes and my own wedding came to mind. It had been a beautiful April day. The air was filled with the aroma of jasmine and roses, and I was so happy I thought I was going to burst from the thought that my Prince Charming was here on his white horse to take me away. This man who I loved was going to be with me until death do us part. On our wedding night, the rooms were filled with all kinds of flowers, and the band played one love song after another.

I married my husband against all odds, quitting school and leaving behind my big family. I wanted to be with him until death do us part. He was the center of my life and I thought I had enough love to make him happy forever. We were in love for life—or at least I thought it would be like that when I said, I do. But things didn't turn out that way. From the second month of our marriage, he started acting differently.

At a party (thrown by mutual friend to celebrate our marriage, incidentally), he played a four-hour backgammon game with one of his old flames, and he flirted non-stop with her. He certainly wasn't the same Romeo who had begged me to marry him (otherwise he would kill himself, he said). He started to lie and keep secrets. From the day of that party I fell into a deep shock and a deeper sadness. Was this the marriage that I had been hoping for and dreaming about? When I asked the advice of the older married women in our close circle they would say, Welcome to the club—this is marriage, what did you expect? Well, I expected more—much more.

My thoughts went back to Alexandra, my poor friend. I felt sick to my stomach. It must be hard, it must be awful, to find your husband in bed with another woman. I closed my eyes and thanked God for at least sparing me from witnessing the actual horror that Alexandra had faced. I had been unhappy and lonely during most of my marriage, and I yearned for freedom. Lloyd almost had me convinced that there could be a marriage free of all the horrible things I had gone through, and I had been so happy for Alexandra to have found such a great man. Ironically, even after hearing these latest developments, I still believed that he really was a good man, but men sometimes do things that are not easy for any woman to digest. I wondered how Alexandra would cope.

My mind was occupied with all these thoughts when the phone rang