Single female troubles

Thought Catalog is a great blog. If you haven’t checked it out, I highly recommend it (along with Hyperbole and a Half). TC posts blogs from a variety of bloggers in their 20 and 30s, mostly the same style as my blog.

Earlier this week, they posted a list of the top 20 reasons why being single is great. I agreed with most of them, and a lot revolved around being able to do whatever you want when you want, no questions, second-guessing, or considering others feelings.

While often it is nice to stop at whatever restaurant or pick whatever music on a whim, I’ve found that I do miss not having to make plans. It can be exhausting having to consider and decide every part of a day. Sometimes the thing that makes me happiest is coming home and having the trash taken out, because it’s just one less thing I have to think about.

A couple weeks ago was the first time I had ever mowed the yard at my house. I couldn’t figure out how to start it. No matter how hard I pulled, where I moved the lever, it wouldn’t go. All I could think about, was imagining my neighbors looking out their windows and taking pity on the poor young girl who couldn’t even turn on a simple engine.

Luckily, the issue was resolved before it was noticed and some ‘hero’ had to step in.

Being a single female homeowner has been a lot tougher than I imagined. With my busy schedule, I have gone months without going to areas in my yard, or places in my basement. My parents had to come help me revitalize by plants because I forgot they were there and didn’t water them. It sounds odd to think I just forget about the things I own, but as long as they’ve stayed out of sight, they’ve been put of mind.

I’m grateful I have a male roommate. I’ve lived by myself for several years, and have learned the ‘tricks’ to protect myself (in addition to taking a self defense class). Keeping men’s shoes by the front door. Never going to where I store checks unless I really know the person in the room. If I’m ever followed, don’t go to your door/car, just keep going. If a cop tried to pull you over between cities, never stop until you make it to the next town. Bras are the best place for important items because I am immediately aware of any hands going near that area. Always have a cab number handy. Never answer the door if I’m alone.

I’m currently in the process of accumulating all my personal information in a safe, in case of emergency. One of my best friends has a survival bag, in case of a disaster. In it she has a copy of her passport, legal docs, food, water, tennis shoes, and other emergency items.

As part of my homeowner experience, I had a repair man in my house to work on one of my bathrooms. I was so grateful Zach happened to leave his stuff out for the man to see. I felt a lot more comfortable knowing he knew a man lived with me.

Growing up, I lived on a circle and my bedroom was on the second floor. I now live on a mildly busy street, in a ranch. My bedroom sits about 200 feet from the sidewalk. I love sleeping with my windows open, but often look twice to make sure no one is standing outside my window. I don’t have a reason for doing this, but it’s just something I have grown accustomed to.

Which sucks. I feel like I can defend myself as well if not more than anyone else. Is it just because I’m female that I have such worries? Has media sensationalized that females are attacked more often?

While in Columbus, I was mildly “harassed” a couple times for being from Nebraska. It wasn’t anything bad, but I really don’t know if me specifically has ever been the target of traveling team obscenities. I can only assume that is because I’m female that it never happened before.

So, all things considered, I’m now debating how this roles into my passion for traveling. I have taken several big trips with only one other females, but what if I want to go alone? And what if it’s not just a trip to another state, but to another part of the country, or even the world?

Can I do it alone? Is it foolish to think something bad won’t happen?

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Author: Clarissa A.

The older I get, the less I know.

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