Quirkyalone

Today is the official day to celebration singledom in Brazil. Feliz Dia dos Solteiros! I found out when a Brazilian Facebook friend posted a photo of himself cooking alone and called it his “Feliz Dia dos Solteiros” photo! I spent six months of 2010 in Brazil and can testify that there is a growing consciousness among young men and women who prefer to be single rather than settle for a lackluster (or untrustworthy) relationship. Brazilians are also driven by passion and that fits with the quirkyalone penchant for passionate relationships. My book Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics was released in Brazil. Here is the Brazilian quirkyalone twitter account which has inspirational tidbits from my book Quirkyalone in Portuguese. Love.

My Portuguese language teachers, me, and my fellow student, enjoying our very own SoSingular

My friend Laura informed me that South Korea has a National Singles Day too on June 14. Single people get together on “Black Day” to eat noodles with black bean sauce.

I am training to be a life coach. It’s an honor to help people go down a path of honesty about what they really want to create in their lives and then help them go for it. I love coaching others. Any coach will tell you that the most important part of the training is the work that you do on yourself. We can only share (and embody) the approaches that resonate with us. So I have been on a wild ride lately, examining my own limiting beliefs, looking more closely at what I want in my life, and even, what is my unique life purpose (I have many thoughts on that whole concept, to be shared in a later post).

A few weeks ago my wonderful peer coach from the program was coaching me on the phone. We were talking about my life (my career; relationships; whether I will have a child). I broke down in tears and said something to the effect of, “I can’t believe I don’t have it all figured out yet.” I have published books and a magazine, started a company, traveled extensively, and despite all that, I sometimes feel like I am at the beginning again with a blank slate. There is so much uncertainty in my life, so many paths that can be taken (or not taken). I get the feeling that from the outside I look strong and sure, but I often feel small and confused. Like a child. Breaking down in tears to my peer coach felt potent and real.

Later that weekend I snuggled on the couch rereading an old favorite book: Care of the Soul: A Guide for Cultivating Sacredness and Depth in Everyday Life by Thomas Moore (Harper Collins, 1992). I stumbled on a perfect passage to clarify why admitting that I don’t have it figured out–that I feel like a child–actually felt very pressure-relieving.

Sometimes you hear adults in their thirties and forties say lightheartedly, “I still don’t know what I’m going to be when I grow up.” No matter how lightly this common sentiment is stated, the feeling is full of inferiority. What’s wrong with me? I should be a success by now. I should be making plent of money. I should be settled. But in spite of these wishes, the sense of the child who is not yet ready for success and settling is strong. This recognition can be a soulful moment. It bears a melancholic tone that is a signal of soul reflecting on its fate and wondering about its future. It is a potential opening to imagination, and to some extent this is the power of the child. The child’s smallness and inadequacy is the “open sesame” to a future and to the unfolding of possibility.

Continue Reading →

In my book Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics, I describe the two types of quirkyalones: there are womb quirkyalones, who pretty much knew they were quirkyalone since birth, and born-again quirkyalones who have an Aha moment later in life. Read more about the two types in the book to figure out which one you are. Actress, political activist, and fitness guru Jane Fonda talks about her Aha moment as a born-again quirkyalone in the August issue of O.

“I always had a penchant for falling in love. Every time I found myself without a mate, I fell into a state of low-sizzling panic. I was so devastated by my second divorce that I had a nervous breakdown. That was when Ted[Turner, Fonda's third husband] first asked me out. But in January 2000, when Ted and I separated, something felt different.
Right after we decided to part ways, Ted flew me to Atlanta to stay at my daughter Vanessa’s house. She was in Paris, so I spent my first two weeks at her house alone. In the past, I’d always tried to stay busy to avoid hurting, but this time I knew I needed to be still for a while. So I raked leaves in her yard, read, and went for long walks. On my third day there, I was in a tiny bedroom with my golden retriever, Roxy, when suddenly it hit me: I don’t need a man to feel whole. In my marriages, I’d lost part of who I was because I was trying to mold myself into what I thought a man wanted me to be. But in that moment, I felt all those pieces flying back together. . . .
After that nine busy years passed without a relationship. I wasn’t even looking. . . .
At 73 I’m essentially shacking up–and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I recently made two movies; I’m writing; I go away by myself. I have my own life, and Richard doesn’t care that I don’t share every single aspect of it with him. I’m not losing myself in this relationship. I’m bringing myself–the real Jane–and he’s giving me his real self, too. Richard and I have an emotional intimacy I’ve never experienced before, because we’re both coming into this relationship whole. We don’t censor ourselves, or leave what we think may not be good enough outside, on the porch.”

Have you had your own born-again quirkyalone moment? Share in the comments with your fellow qas.

For those who ask, where are the men in the quirkyalone movement? Here’s a gorgeous, moving movie featuring a male quirkyalone lead (Ewan McGregor, beautifully vulnerable in the movie himself). Beginners weaves together two big qs: quirkyaloneness and queerness.

Oliver is 38 and has spent the last few years caring for his father who announced he was gay after Oliver’s mother died. The movie flashes back to Oliver’s childhood throughout the film. Oliver never believed his parents were really in love, and consequently never really fully believed in love for himself.

You could say it’s a fear-of-commitment story, but that would be too simple a shorthand. Oliver is afraid of slipping into a passionless domesticity driven by the model that he saw growing up. The mother figure is tragic: so bursting with life and quirkyness, but she was never going to get the passion she wanted from her husband (and she knew he was gay). I loved the scene where Ewan and his new love recognize each other as “the same”–both leavers. This is no romantic comedy with an easy resolution. We get to see Oliver and Anna in love, and at the same time, riding out hard moments, battling out their sense that “this is not the way I was supposed to feel.” And if it’s not the way it was “supposed to feel” in the moment, does that mean end it? Deliciously real. See it!

Most people fear growing old alone. Research shows senior singles are among the most satisfied singles: “Older singles (ages 65 and over) report the greatest level of happiness over the past 12 months, followed by 21-24 year olds.” Check out the full findings in this fascinating match.com report.