Singleness vs. the second party
The best metaphor (I've heard) to describe the slow burn of singleness.
Often, people ask how “being single” is going, or how my heart is from day to day. I’m 29, so at this point, I’m pretty used to the single life. Sometimes, I’m too busy getting groceries and cleaning dishes to think about it. Other times, it feel the sharp sting when I’m invited to a wedding or party again alone. Truth be told, I think those questions on singleness are fair to ask; it’s just that my answers come complicated. It’s not usually in the day to day solitude that gets me. It’s more in the slow burn of singleness.
Being single is like being at a party1 with all your friends. You dressed for the occasion, and you’re having a great time. The room is packed full of fun, party-loving people. The music is bumping, the snacks are delicious, and there’s people all around you as far as the eye can see.
Then suddenly, something shifts. One by one, your friends start peeling off. They’ve been invited to a new party, they tell you. You didn’t personally get the invite, but no problem. There’s plenty still going on here. They bid you adieu, wish you well, and promise to send pictures and updates later on.
No worries, you tell yourself. I’m having fun! The drinks are still good, the dance floor is still jiving, and even though you’re down by a friend or two or four, the night is young and the party continues.
After a while, you start to hear murmurings from the other location. Elegant photos are posted. Reports stream in. The music is better. The catering? To die for. People keep leaving as you keep a smile about you, even while people say, “You’re not missing out on much.” You see right through those texts telling you, “That first party you’re at is SUCH a gift.” We both know better, even when it stays in secret.
So the party starts to thin and the dance floor dies down. You’re not mad; more confused. You thought this was the place to be, but the dwindling crowd says otherwise. Actually, now that you think about it, no one invited to the second party thought twice to stay at the first.
The worst part is you can’t blame them. You love your friends, and you love a good social gathering, wherever it transpires. You obviously want them to be happy, to have fun, and to be merry (or married off) whenever they choose to be. But given the chance, a choice was made. Like it or not, the first party you’re at fizzles out.
Soon, all that’s left is a smattering of people still happy to be there (or as grateful as they can be) with news of the second party breaking in. It’s not excruciating, just sad. It’s not insufferable, just somber.
But who wants to be unhappy at a party?
This is what being single feels like. Especially in slow burn form. For those who’ve been in the game (or out of it?) long enough, it’s an odd mixture of pain and applause. Biting down on the bitter, and savoring the sweet. You love your friends. You love your family. You try to hold dear to all layers of love and life you do find fully.
Yet with every wedding you go to, you watch another friend leave. You send them off with song and celebration, feeling keenly aware that this type of party people want to celebrate. Like all things, it’s a mix of pain and pleasure. Even if you’re not mad, it doesn’t keep you from being sad. Even in your love, it doesn’t take away the loneliness.
Factor in the financial piece of gifts and meal trains galore. Factor in the far-out futures where having kids and grandkids (and maybe great grandkids) might fall somewhere down the road. I can only imagine the parade of parties it can feel painful to watch, without an invite or insight on what it’s like inside.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Being single is a lot of other things, too. It’s the joy of independence and the gift of availability. It’s the beauty of sibling hood, and adoration of auntie life, as well as the acknowledgement there’s no greener pastures, just different grass to graze on.
I’m not sure which parties are “best” no more than I’m sure which pastures are more perfect to graze on. But what I can do is do my best to give honest answers to complex questions, doing right by those posted up at the same parties year after year.
If I have to believe anything it’s this.
Where pain persists, it’s surely worth preaching. And where pain populates, there’s surely a party.
I first heard this example on TikTok (I think), but I cannot for the life of me find the creator. If you know who originally came up with this metaphor, please tell me so I can give them credit!
I’ve been thinking about this metaphor, the past couple days, and couldn’t remember where I heard it. I did a little Google search and found that, of course, it was from your article! Even if you didn’t create the analogy, originally, you explained it so beautifully and honestly. Thank you for sharing your thoughts!
That last statement is very deep. I’ll need to ponder on it awhile longer.
“ Where pain persists, it’s surely worth preaching. And where pain populates, there’s surely a party.”