The 'Why Didn't You Get Married?' Case [Around Fifty and Not Sparkling at All Vol. 2]

“It’s too late for me now, isn’t it? Marriage and all that.”

It was quite a shock, so I remember it well.

I think it was right after I stepped into my forties. My cousin, two years older than me, was getting married, so I headed back to my parents' home, taking over three hours one way while thinking about what a hassle it was.

It was a case of a single woman in her late thirties attending the wedding of another woman in her late thirties. I wasn't looking for a partner anymore, and besides, trying to find someone at a relative's wedding is way too much trouble, both before and after the fact.

My parents' home isn't in the kind of countryside where you get tangled up in those so-called troublesome social obligations, but I am at an age where my parents' generation still has those ties. For a woman who is lubricated by oil and fat, and who finds it a chore to dress up, put on makeup, or even take care of herself, the annoyance of getting myself ready to stand in public (even if I'm not the star, it's a matter of etiquette) is just as bothersome as that question.

“Aren't you getting married?”

Shut up, I would if I could. I can't say that, though. Because it's a public setting.

Fortunately, my father, who was born after the war, is tolerant—or perhaps indifferent—in that regard. He’s the type who says, “It doesn't matter if you're single, married, or have a same-sex partner; as long as you don't commit a crime, anything is fine,” which I’m grateful for.

The troublesome ones are the women. Starting with my mother, my father's sisters, the spouses of my father's brothers, and their daughters.

“If they ask me if I’m getting married, can I just stay silent...?”
“Sure.”

That’s how my father is. I’m very grateful for that. He is, after all, the one who managed to get me out of attending the funeral of a relative I didn't get along with by saying, “I’ll handle it.” I know it’s rude, but he’s a reliable person who can properly take care of those kinds of things.

That said, even if I were told that, it doesn't mean I can just go home. I attended the wedding with a heavy heart, and it was when I was on high alert that I was told the words at the beginning.

A look of resignation. A half-smile. Oh, I thought, these people have given up on me too.

In the first place, I’m not cut out for marriage.

A streamer I consider my “oshi” (favorite) always says, “I will absolutely never get married.”

He is a bit younger than me and is a man. In that sense, I think the external pressure might be a little lower, but once you hit your late thirties, there must be some pressure.

Even so, the refreshing way he says, “I absolutely won’t” or “I can’t” is very good.

I nodded vigorously at his argument that “I can’t even imagine living with someone.”

I think that’s the amazing thing about people who do get married, or who can. Because if you get married, you’re almost certainly going to live together, right? Then your living space, your daily life, and your life itself become halved and merged into one.

People who “can” probably don’t think of it that way. I think the feeling that it doubles rather than halves is closer to the truth. But I just end up thinking it gets halved.

I don't think I can endure that 'void'.
Because my ideal type is a brownie.

Too ideal.

Unless there is someone who can clear that first hurdle of 'living with another person,' I conclude that marriage or living with a partner is impossible!

Thanks to that, I've become much more at ease.

Because of that, even when people ask 'What kind of person do you like?', I can't exactly answer 'A brownie...', so from the time I graduated college until I entered my 40s, I was constantly plagued by the pressure of 'You need to get married soon.'

What's interesting is that people in their 60s who got married after 40, those who got divorced, and those who were cheated on or did the cheating, all say the same thing.
Regarding this, I have to say, 'Why?'

It feels just like a middle school sports club. I don't think it's like that lately, though.
It's like, 'I was bullied by my seniors, so we'll bully our juniors! This is tradition!' sort of thing.

Then, at a certain point, it stopped completely.

I felt relieved, thinking that those around me had finally given up.
Everyone around me started saying things like, 'Isn't it fine to be happy on your own?' and 'Isn't it enough just to be alive?'

Then, in turn, people started praising being single.
That's troublesome in its own way.
I want them to remember that I am someone who 'couldn't' get married, not someone who 'didn't' get married, so I really don't want to be thought of as having some noble philosophy or consciousness like 'It's amazing that you didn't get married.'

Being alone is easy and nice.
But the anxiety and pressure of being alone are also brutal.
Also, I really didn't choose the 'not doing it' path; I was just chosen by the 'can't do it' fate. That's really all there is to it.

When asked 'Why?', the only answer I can give to the marriage question is 'I couldn't, so leave me alone.'
No matter which path you choose, worries and anxieties will never end.
Let's both do our best without breaking down.