Manifesto for the alonely: an unpublished article
The term "speed dating" invariably makes me break out into a cold sweat. For those of you who are (thankfully) unfamiliar with it, speed dating is the evolutionary pinnacle of modern-day courtship. An original observation - and you heard it here first - I believe speed dating is the social manifestation of an ethos of mass consumption and production that equates "more, faster and cheaper" to "better". Indeed, what could be "more, faster and cheaper" than this: Speed daters congregate at a given venue, seat themselves opposite a member of the other sex (heterosexuality is assumed), and have all of three minutes to acquaint themselves with their "date". Then, a kitsch little bell rings, and one extra minute is allowed for everyone to categorize their new acquaintance as "yes", "no" or "Friend", before the men arise like the chivalrous knights in armour they are, and move off to the next chick. Is it just me, or does this strike you as some kind of deeply macabre buffet line?
More, faster, cheaper - more dates, less time, no expensive corsages or exorbitant candlelit dinners for two. And - dare I risk being risque - more "bang" (ahem) for your buck. But really, is it better?
I think not. What depths of desperation drive men and women to such madness? What is this gnawing fear of being single - and whence this culture of ours, that scorns the unattached with a social order rife with proms, marriages, personal ads, speed dating and - worst of all - the tyranny of Valentine's Day?
In a society that makes money off coupledom and preys on the guilt of the coupleless, is there a place for those who find themselves happily single, refusing the desperate search for a half-assed relationship or a mate merely for the sake of not being single? Or those who aren't paired off in time for the demolition of a month's rent on one romantic V-day dinner - and don't want to be?
Enter Sasha Cagen, author of Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics. Cagen has given a name to that marginalized segment of our society: as she puts it, "romantics, idealists, eccentrics [who] inhabit singledom as our natural resting state". The world is full of happy perky couples, and no shortage of single-and-desperately-looking, who live in constant pursuit of the next relationship. But far removed from either of these, the quirkyalones are emerging: those of us who exist as entities in our own right, whose singleness is a ground state of being, not as a temporary trough between high points of togetherness. Cultivating lasting friendships is just as rewarding - if not more so - than nurturing romantic and very potentially transient relationships. Alone time is invaluable, even crucial. Walking, travelling, eating and watching movies alone are not activities to be dreaded, but cherished. And on no account do we date for the sake of not being alone!
Make no mistake: quirkyalones are not socially inept, nor incapable of being in relationships. On the contrary, according to Cagen and an international following who have embraced the identity and its manifesto, QA's are often social and faceted people precisely because of their determination to exist independently of a significant other, and it isn't that they shun romantic relationships, only that they recognize them for what they should be: optional.
If this seems intuitive to you, then you are probably a quirkyalone. And if you doubt for a moment the sheer brunt of societal pressure to Be Not Alone, you have only to browse through the aisles of a bookstore's self-help section, which can feature up to 5,000 titles on how to find a man (e.g. How to Marry the Man of Your Choice (1984); The Surrendered Single: A Practical Guide to Attracting and Marrying the Man Who's Right for You (2002)), or flick through the proliferation of women's magazines, all of which collectively assume either that you are with a man, and therefore require a veritable fusillade of tips on how to orgasm, or that you are looking, and therefore require a new closet.
But there's a tincture of the tragic inherent in a quirkyalone - a certain "bittersweet fondness of silence" (no doubt a vestigial effect of those many nights alone) with at least one eye gazing towards distant possibilities and the exhilaration of a future "momentous meeting". As German poet Rainer Maria Rilke puts it, "You should not let yourself be confused in your solitude by the fact that there is something in you that wants to break out of it." And I am not against couplehood. Break out, by all means! But my message today is simply this: Valentine's Day is not the way to do it.
Instead, Cagen entreats us all to celebrate International Quirkyalone Day: not, as she is quick to point out, an anti-Valentine's Day, nor a "pity party for single people", but a meaningful alternative to the marketing barrage that Valentine's Day has become. As she puts it, "it's a celebration of all kinds of love: romantic, platonic, familial, and yes, self-love." It's a celebration of romance, freedom and individuality if you're single, and if you're partnered, a vital reminder to never neglect your individuality even (and especially) within the thresholds of a relationship.
So, if you're morosely single, happily single, in a couple that despises the tyrannical excesses of Valentine's Day, or just plain bored, feel free to join [friend] and I in [place] at [time] on February 14th, in Warwick's very own IQD celebration, where we'll be drinking to individuality, love in its many forms, and most of all, a consummate end to Valentine's Day.