A friend took me to lunch on Saturday to celebrate my birthday, and afterwards, we went to Hello Cupcake for desert.  Num num num!  I so very much enjoyed my chocolate cupcake with bourbon frosting and a chocolate dipped potato chip on top!  Too bad I can't remember the name of it... anyway, while we were eating our cupcakes, I mentioned that I had just filled out a profile for an invite only match making service that matches people once a year here in DC.  It turns out that most of the participants are lawyers which isn't too surprising given the location.  Still, I'm not exactly thrilled that this is the dominate profession of said "dating service."  I shared this with my friend and she said, "I dated a lawyer and he took me to some very nice restaurants!"  (Note: this is huge as she is a lover of fine food - well, all good food, really.) 

"Did you?" I laughed good naturedly with her.

"Yes, I did.  We went out for about six months, and I happened to mention that our sixth month anniversary was coming up, would he like to do something to celebrate it and he broke up with me two days later.  This is after I had told about a month prior that I loved him, with no response from him if that tells you anything."

Our conversation turned to my being frustrated with my mother's constant questioning of my dating situation.  She's always bringing it up, and I knew sitting there talking at Hello Cupcake, that if I told my mom I went to lunch with a friend, she would ask, "Was this a male or female friend?"  

"My parents used to do the same thing."

"They did?," I asked.

"Yep.  And, I finally told them stop.  That it really hurt my feelings and was painful for me to talk about."

"You did?"

"Yes, and I said if they didn't stop, I wouldn't come visit them for Christmas anymore, or join them at the beach house for summer vacation."

"That's so brave of you."

"Sometimes, you have to change the dynamics of the relationship and reestablish yourself.  I'm 43 years old, I don't need this constant reminder that marriage hasn't happened for me, but, it's not going to stop me from living the life that I love.  And, I actually think my parents are envious of a lot of my experiences because they married so soon and never had them."

And, this is true.  This is exactly how I feel.  What else is true is that I spoke with my mom on the phone last night and - like clockwork - when I tell her I went to Hello Cupcake with a friend, she asks, "Was this a male or female friend?"  And, not even just asked it, but used that tone of voice that is apparently reserved for confidential conversations.

"Does it matter?" I asked.

"Well, I'm just curious."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore.  I don't want you to ask me about it anymore.  It's annoying and I don't see what the big deal is."

"Well, ok.

I'm sure I'll be asked again.

It's not even that it's annoying.  It really does hurt my feelings, just as my friend said it hurt hers.  And, here's why: I am fully aware that I am a freak of nature according to this culture because I've done everything expected of me regarding social standards except marry - or even date.  I am fully aware that I have been hurt many times, that I've made horrible decisions and gone against my better judgement in dating, that the gap between how women should be treated and how men are still programmed to treat us by and large hasn't closed since the 1950s despite feminism, that I am not datable because I am primarily viewed as an object and that's not good enough for me - I get it!  I don't need this to be brought to my attention again.  And, of course, there are always people who would never go out with me for whatever reason, and they assuredly say, "Of course you're datable.  Who wouldn't want to date you?"

Why does it matter if it were a male or female friend?  Why does it matter if I am single, dating, engaged, or married?  Why do people feel they have free reign to ask these questions?  They don't.  It's my private life, and even though I plaster it on a blog, it doesn't mean that people have the right to ask me about it if I don't open that door of the conversation first.  Why does this have to be such an integral part of my identity to others?  There is more to who I am than whether or not I'm dating. 

It's bad enough that I have to endure yet another Valentine's Day.  It doesn't matter that I've sent Valentines to family and friends - I know I'm loved.  But, for some reason, this "holiday" is just as offensive to me as being asked whether or not I ate cupcakes with a male or female friend.  And, on the off chance that it was a male friend, my mother is automatically and stubbornly convinced that it's a romantic relationship.  Lucky me.