Photo by Kristina Yadykina on Unsplash.
You meet someone who explains their marital status: “I’m single.” You think you get it … but what does that word actually mean?
On a superficial level, you know they currently are not married in a relationship. Some scientists try to say that unmarried people who are in a relationship are still single; they want that piece of paper. But what about people who are *not* in a relationship?
Scholars have defined single in at least two ways: as a temporary status and as a chosen identity. Confusing these definitions distorts both research and lived experience
Some researchers argue that being single is a temporary status because a single person *could* get married and probably will. That definition seems based on the belief that marriage is “normal.” Many single people do not see themselves on a path that will eventually end in coupledom. They see themselves as already arrived: they like the way they are and have no intention of changing.
And some have moved from “status” to “identity.”
Let’s illustrate with real examples of three people: two from articles published in the Chronicle of Higher Education and one from my own conversations.
Randi Lynn Taglen wrote about her experiences as a higher ed administrator who, from what I can tell, was reluctantly single for a period of fifteen years. She’s a higher ed administrator who began her adult life with a wish to be married and hold children in her arms. She went to college and grad school, obtained professorial positions, and along the way experienced a brutal break-up with her boyfriend,
Her article displays exceptional honesty. She talks about how she found herself single, dealing with prejudices encountered by all species of singles. When she arrived on a new campus, her new colleagues wanted to know her marital status immediately. Ironically, if she’d been divorce or widowed, I suspect people would be more understanding.
Randi adapted to her new life as a single academic. She flourished in her career and was eventually invited to enter administration. She ignored resentful comments from colleagues who attributed her success to her unmarried status. She acknowledges that being single gave her freedom to make certain moves that wouldn’t be possible in a marriage. She adopted a dog and found avenues of self-expression.
But she writes poignantly, “I came to campus every day carrying a form of complicated grief, a silent ache for the life that never came to be and the child I could feel in my arms but would never hold.”
Eventually, she was surprised to find a partnerwhen she was somewhere in her forties. She seems truly happy to be coupled again.
As I read this article, Randi seems to represent the concepts of Bergstrom and Bree, who saw singlehood as a status: “Singlehood as a result of separation is rarely a long-term singlehood,” they say.
I couldn’t help contrasting her article with Craig Wynne, who wrote a response emphasizing the prejudices single people experience. Craig is an associate professor at a university in Washington, DC. He has published research and inaugurated an undergraduate course in the field of singlehood studies. He expressed dismay at the prejudices Randi encountered. He suggests that fostering a climate that welcomes singles will make life easier for the reluctantly or temporarily single.
It seems safe to say that Craig has no regrets about being single and childless. He’s not looking for a partner. For him, being single is an identity that comes with annoyances and obstacles, but not with a sense of lack.
Craig writes, “I became a solo homeowner a year and a half ago, shortly after earning tenure. Not all singles are happy to be, but after a day of teaching, department and committee meetings, hallway conversations, and the increased emotional labor that comes with helping students these days, I’m happy to come home and be greeted by the meows of my cat, Chester.”
That quote clearly suggests he doesn’t see singlehood as a temporary stop on a journey to marriage, but as a destination he sought voluntarily. In other writing, Craig suggests he sees himself as what Bella DePaulo calls “single at heart.”
A cat instead of a kid? For someone who’s single at heart, that’s not settling; it’s choosing.
As a final example, I’ll refer to someone I’ll call Mary, who was divorced about 15 years ago. When I met her recently, for the first time, she said she’s enjoying her freedom. She has no interest in getting back to her old life or finding a new partner. She doesn’t describe herself as “unmarried” but as “single.” She’s still doing some exploring about filling her life, but she wants to expand her identity, not change it.
I didn’t want to ask a lot of questions, but some things stood out. Unlike Lynn, Mary had been married and she has a status of “divorced.” In some circles, that carries less stigma than “never married.” This was brought home to me recently when a male acquaintance expressed surprise that I wasn’t divorced or widowed: “But you seem happy!” he said, bewildered. He couldn’t imagine how a single person could be happy.
Mary seems somewhere between Randi and Craig. Initially, she saw singlehood as a status, but she has quickly evolved to being “single at heart.” In transition, she’s explored ways to cope but soon realized she was doing more than coping: she was learning to enjoy aspects of her single life.
Will she go back to being coupled? It’s at least possible. But Mary is older. She has grown children who don’t live near her. She doesn’t have regrets. She doesn’t want to date. And she’s discovering the positive, non-deficit side of being single.
As singlehood becomes more widely accepted as an identity and a choice, I suspect people like Mary will avoid re-coupling; they’re now on a one-way trip and they intend to stay that way.
From this, we can conclude that “being single” has very different meanings, depending on the circumstances and values of the people involved.
Unfortunately, a lot of research – especially in most of the last century – has confounded these definitions of single, suggesting there’s one definition for all people who can be lumped together as “unmarried.” When asked ‘How happy are you with being single,” the lower ratings of those who are reluctantly “single as a status” could cancel out the high ratings of the voluntarily “single at heart.”
Fortunately, that is changing as we see new research emerging by scholars who don’t bring a “coupled is the norm” agenda.
A status can be temporary and may call for coping mechanisms; “coping” usually represents a response to an undesirable situation. An identity is something to be proud of — something that calls for expanding and, as many single-by-choice would say, a celebration.
In an ideal world, you would happily describe yourself as “single” and people around you would just nod and move on. More and more of us are taking pride in the word “single,” and we’re happy to claim that identity. As illustrated here, it’s by no means the same as “wishing you were half of a couple.”
One thing is clear. When someone says, “I’m single,” it could mean at least three things…and why are you asking them, anyway?
