Dear Diary,
Welcome to my diary of being single. I know it seems strange to write a full blown diary about living as a single person. I mean, what types of adventures can I possible have? Why would my mundane lifestyle make for entertainment reading? It’s not like I have a boyfriend who annoys me, or I’m married to someone I butt heads with every single day.
Or, perhaps, my diary is more than that. Perhaps it’s more about my nightly adventures with my group of friends as we meet numerous people (particularly men), and make lots of new friends (particularly men), and visit a variety of clubs (to meet men). Ok, so…it’s not like I’m man-crazy or anything (well, maybe I am a little).
So, why a diary? Why share this with the world? Writing helps calm me. It keeps me grounded and stops me from floating away in my own fantasy. Yes, diary, I tend to daydream a lot (especially about, you guessed it: men!). What can I say? I started writing a diary when I was in middle school. It was a suggestion from my language arts teacher. I didn’t think I would still continue it after graduating from high school. I must be one of the only adult women who still writes in a diary. Maybe I shouldn’t call this a “diary” then. I should be more adult, you know, show my maturity. Instead, I should call this what it really is: a journal. Yet, that seems so…impersonal. Why is it, women (by women, I mean teen girls) can call a journal a diary, but men (and by men, I mean, boys) cannot? Truth be told, there was a book called “Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” which was one my favorites when I was in elementary school, where the main character was a boy who wrote a “diary.” Yet, I never really met a boy who admittedly claimed to write in a diary like Greg did. Oh no, when I asked them, it would always be the same:
Flashback to Middle School:
“Hey, quick question: do you have a diary?” I inquired to Paul, one of my male friends in middle school.
Paul cocked his head with bewilderment. Stared at me like I was crazy for a good 10 seconds before he would erupts in a volcanic spew of laughter. “A diary?” He shouted while holding his sides, suffering from pain of his own hysteria. “A diary? What boy would have a diary? Diaries are for girls!”
His overreaction to my question quickly drew the attention of the people around me. before I knew it, I was about to be sucked in a whirlpool of laughter, swirling round and round, preparing to plunge deeper into the abyss of embarrassment. Yes, it was a very harsh lesson in gender differences for a 14 year old; one that I would remember years later.
“Fine, if you boys don’t write in a diary, what are you doing for the writing assignment? We were assigned a diary to write in,” I countered quickly, trying to pull myself out of the abyss before it was too late. Yeah, that rebuttal, only added to my anchor of stupidity instead.
“OMG, Kathy, you really need to pay more attention in class,” Paul continued laughing. “I swear, it’s like you heard the word ‘diary’ and you shut everything and everyone around you off. Mrs. Johannsen said, ‘girls can call their journal a diary instead if the want.’ No where did she say boys have to call our journal a diary.”
After Paul made his statement, the laughter around me continued. I could feel my face become red hot like the blazing sun in the atmosphere above us. There was no escape from this nightmare. I did what any other self-respecting middle school girl would do…I ran to the bathroom to…cry!
So, maybe Paul was right. I hadn’t paid attention to what Mrs. Johannsen said. But it’s definitely not for the reason Paul claimed. He thought it was because I heard the word diary. Nope, it was because of Keith. I was distracted by how cute Keith looked with his dimples that day (Ok, but this isn’t about Keith, it’s about diaries vs. journals, let me stay on topic). It was after class ended that day, I asked my best friend, Maddi, what the assignment was. However, I couldn’t tell Paul that, now could I?
I remained in the bathroom well after the passing bell rang. I didn’t care if I was tardy to class. the tardiness would be worth surviving the tidal wave of shame that washed over me for my lack of attentiveness.
To this day, I don’t understand why “diary” is still consider more of a female item than male. Maybe it could be just how socialization works? I mean, I remember book orders when I was in elementary school. They always had “diaries” for purchase (at the time I didn’t care about them). I remember they were the cutest little book with blank pages. The short one or two sentence description would usually be something like: save your personal thoughts in the flower power diary! Or share them with your friends during your next sleepover. I guess if you were a boy, it didn’t seem so appealing to purchase, but I knew a few of my friends who would return the class a few days after the book orders were distributed with money and plans to make the purchase.
So, here I am, a 30 year old woman who is still single. Why am I still single? You ask. Well, that is a question to be answered later in a different entry.
Until next entry, see you, Diary.
Kathy.
About the Creator
Iris Harris
An aspiring novelist. I enjoy writing ghost, horror, and drama. Occassionally, I dabble with some essays. You can find more of my work with the link below:
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