There are some spaces in which every adult is allowed to be. For example, restaurants, resorts, and the like. Now, some places limit their spaces to say, only adults: adults-only resorts, for example. The idea is that adults want to vacation sometimes without listening to screaming toddlers next to them while they relax by the beach. Totally understandable.
Then there’s a weird phenomenon—couples-only resorts. It doesn’t make much sense, since there’s nothing about having a single person next to you in a lounge chair reading their kindle that in any way impacts your experience. It’s discriminatory (especially since, in my experience, the couples-only resorts are cheaper than their nearly-identical non-couples-only counterparts). And it’s weird. It’s based on an assumption that single adult humans are crazier, louder, and less mature than their married adult counterparts. And it doesn’t make any sense, since you don’t magically become married at a certain age, or when you hit a certain level of maturity. Obnoxious, disruptive, irritating people get married all the time. Many people like this get married. And many introverted, quiet bookworms stay single for long periods, or forever. I know, I know. The idea that anyone would, by choice, remain permanently unmarried and not engage themselves in the legal shackles of pseudo-permanent monogamy with someone of the opposite sex is unthinkable to some married folks (although many tell me they wish they’d made the same choice, to remain unwed). Nonetheless, openly proclaiming that you are not sad about being single is still wildly unpopular, as people prefer to get married, regret it, and then sulk in the shadows, only admitting in whispers how miserable they are, prior to divorcing and giving the other person half of their money.
Back to the topic: resorts and couples and singles. I’m going to a resort in August that’s adults only. The resort company actually has a separate nearly-identical line of resorts that are couples-only. These resorts are significantly cheaper per person. It’s clear that this is discriminiatory, but because single people aren’t a protected class anywhere in the world I’m aware of, no one can or will ever be able to do anything about it. So I paid premium to go to the adults-only version so I could sit by the beach with my kindle and a cocktail without screaming children disrupting me.
As always, I read many reviews online prior to booking and after to prepare for my trip. It’s an all-inclusive resort in Mexico, very high-end supposedly. I got half-off the rate by booking six months ahead. I’m very excited. I planned to spend most of the time sitting by the pool or beach with my kindle and a pina colada and a little at the dozen or so bars, maybe even—dare I say it—socializing. I’m one of those weird people that can pick up a conversation with total strangers anywhere in the world. And usually, I do, when traveling. I often like to meet locals, as well as other travelers. When in Hungary, I met another single solo traveler and we had a wonderful time getting dinner together and hitting a few cocktail bars (she loved “mixology” and we joked about how I was content with my plain bourbon!). We had a wonderful time. I frequently meet and converse with couples, as well. I’m an adult. This is usually considered normal, friendly behavior.
The reviews I read about this resort said to join the Facebook groups for those who go, as they’re apparently helpful in planning your trip. I joined one. While reading the posts, I picked up on a few posts and comments that were strangely “anti-single.” Several people falsely proclaimed that it was a “couples only” resort. When confronted by others with the fact that it was clearly not a couples-only resort, they insisted it was “mainly for couples.” I saw absolutely nothing online saying or implying this. The resort website has a normal amount of stuff about weddings and other couples-related advertising, as do all resorts. It was very clear that children were not allowed. Absolutely nothing on the website indicated in any way that single adults were unwelcome. Booking as a single person was just as easy as booking any resort in the world, if not easier (this place is known for great service). And while I expect that an adults-only resort, like any resort, will mostly have adults who are part of a couple (because most adults who travel are married—they have the disposable income to do so), the advertising did not make it seem any less hospitable to single adults than any other resort in the world. Well, except for their couples-only line, which makes me want to show up with a friend who I’m clearly platonic with, and tell them to screw off because I don’t need to publicly fornicate with someone to stay at a resort. Notably, unlike the non-couples-only line, that resort has suites available with multiple bedrooms, so going as a single person with a friend would be completely feasible.
But, again, there’s this giant group of people who frequent this resort going on and on about how basically, they really don’t want single travelers there because we might infect them with our singledom (or really, our happiness with not being legally bound to someone we hate). What do they fear by our presence there? That I might accidentally make their husbands realize that if they weren’t married, they might have the money, time, and space to pursue the hobbies they once enjoyed? That the wives might suddenly becomes homosexual just by looking at me reading soviet-era historical fiction on my kindle? That I might remind everyone there that single women are allowed to travel solo, and their wives might start taking vacations by themselves to get away from their husbands?
I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m hoping that the “vibe” on that Facebook group isn’t representative of that at the resort, but if it is, I’ll be too busy enjoying a good book and a cocktail to care. And I’ll make sure to go back frequently just to stick it in the craw of all the anti-single Karens. Because guess what? Single women are welcome in these spaces. We are welcome in restaurants, bars, and resorts. We are welcome in parks and museums. We are not required to marry a heterosexual man to please you or anyone else. And we’re typically happier not doing so. I’m tired of people (and no, my parents aren’t those people) implying I should be married, pushing me to get married, or otherwise making out as if my not being married makes my life less fulfilling. The married couples I know are not happier, more productive, or otherwise better off than I am. They’re certainly not wealthier than I am, which was the point, for a while—two disposable incomes for a couple typically living in one home. I am not less educated or professionally successful. In fact, women are “putting off” getting married to obtain higher levels of education. And I hate that phrase—“putting off.” That’s how every article that discusses the rising age of many non-married women puts it, as if they will definitely get married, and the fact that they have doctorates doesn’t mean they might be smart enough not to.
I’m not anti-marriage. I don’t dislike married people. Many if not most of my friends are happily married. But they don’t think there’s something wrong with me because I’m not. They know I simply don’t enjoy the things that they do, which come with being married. Often, I’m the one they endlessly complain to about being married, cohabitating, and dealing with their spouse every day. And I love to tease them—it was your choice to get married, I say. Because it was. It was a choice. And despite popular belief, you don’t have to choose marriage.
For more thoughts on medical and disability advocacy, pick up A Zebra’s Guide, today!
Sarah Semnyetzky of Ember 