I’m tall, large, and independent. I like to read books. I’ve been told by many men that I’m intimidating, which is both ridiculous and information I was given unprompted.

There’s also the little matter that in a conservative town I’m an atheist, feminist, environmentalist, left-leaning vegan.

In short I’m single because no one is asking.

“You shouldn’t be working on the weekends.”

Work has always been inextricably linked to self-worth in my life. Maybe that’s because I was an artist. Or maybe it’s because at my core I believe we all exist to contribute to the whole. Growing up I never thought about having children or getting married. But I did dream of work.

Of course, those were different dreams.

And that was a different time.

When Dante climbed through Purgatorio and landed upon the second terrace he discovered those who dwelled there wore cloaks of grey and had their eyes sewn shut. The punishment for envy.

In 2020 it has other names. Fitspo. Couple Goals. Blessed. Phthonus manifests in hashtags and camouflages himself in trends. And I am far from immune.

“You could almost be pretty, but your teeth are so off-putting. It’s all I can focus on when you open your mouth.”

When I was 25 my male “best-friend” told me something about my smile that no one had ever said to me before. It stung. And not just because he said it, but because I trusted him to tell me the unvarnished truth. Which meant that other people had been thinking it all along and I didn’t know. I have not smiled for a photo since. This year I turned 38.

When morning came the next day my parents were hysterical. There was my well intentioned flower bed, a perfect 4 x 10 foot rectangle, carefully placed next to our lilac trees, filled with fresh soil.

“It looks like a grave.”

They were right. Somehow the plan in my head of riotous colour, had taken on a rather unexpected look. All winter long the jokes continued. And when winter turned to spring, I started to get a bit nervous. Nothing was happening. The grass turned green, and the trees started to bud, but my little plot was dormant.