I was a little disappointed when my favorite nail salon had a two-hour wait due to the upcoming holiday. But because I was in desperate need of a pedicure, I took it as an opportunity to try out a new place that was all the buzz. I walked in and followed procedure: sign in, chose a color and take a seat till someone becomes available.

20 minutes later, a sweet little woman called my name and directed me towards her station. She was chatty, friendly and very eager to get to know me. Her questions started off innocently about the light pink color I had chosen, where I was from and had I ever been there before, then - whoosh - Rapid-fire questions about my love life.

“Married?” No.

“Single?” Yes.

“Oh, don’t you go to bars?” Occasionally.

“Are you on dating sites?” No…

“Don’t you want to be married?” Maybe one day.

And because she caught me on an errand day that I actually brushed my hair, she hit me with this little zinger,

“Don’t worry, you look pretty enough to find someone.” Aw thanks, lady. That is all that matters.

She even took it a step further by trying to gauge my reaction to one of her single coworkers. I felt oddly pitied by a complete stranger, and I grew to be a bit self conscious when I realized that I didn’t shave my legs before my pedicure, and she might question if that’s why I was single to begin with.

This wasn’t the first time I have felt shamed because of my marital status. Wedding invitations lack a plus one, friends with significant others go out with other couples and leave the loner at home and sometimes I’m expected to do things that people wouldn’t even consider asking my married friends to do. But everyone just really wants to know why I’m single.

I’m sure most people mean it as a compliment, but I can’t help but wonder what type of answer they actually want.

“Well Roberta, I’m emotionally unavailable, I have a legitimate fear of commitment and when the clock strikes midnight I turn into an oger.”

I’m just kidding. The truth is, I don’t take choosing a spouse lightly. That nail technician watched me try out five different colors of polish before I chose one, and it was only going on my feet. I think it might take me longer than 23 years (8 years of actually dating) to commit to forever - especially with a man. Marriage doesn’t come off with a cotton ball and acetone, and for that reason, I encourage you to take all the time you need to find the right person if that’s even what you want.

At this stage in the game, finding your future hubs/wifey should go far beyond the superficial things like looks and accomplishments. It’s emotional support when life attempts to harden your heart; Respect of ones mind, values and beliefs; Commitment even when things aren’t going well and so, so much more. It’s finding someone you’re proud of who can put you in your place when it’s needed but still loves you and all of your flaws. It’s choosing someone who is willing to compromise over a cup of coffee on the front porch, and it’s patience in times of confusion and anger.

Nowadays both men and women are waiting longer than ever before to get married. On the importance scale, relationships are coming in second right after financial stability. Plus, people are legitimately afraid of getting divorced. It seems as though the years of self-discovery before settling down are actually beneficial for a future marriage.

Marriage is undoubtedly a beautiful, wonderful, sacred thing but who is to say “singledom” isn’t all those things too? It’s not something to be ashamed of it’s something to be relished in! It’s an excellent time to focus on those things that normally take a backseat while you’re in a relationship, like: friends, career, passions and even discovering new parts of you. It’s a time to conquer fears and get comfortable with the unknown. Investing in yourself is the smartest thing you can do for obvious reasons – you’re stuck with yourself forever.

So, Single Shamers, on behalf of all the people who are constantly defending their God-given right to ride solo - who show up to weddings alone and still kill it on the dance floor and resort to watching Bridget Jones’s Diary on a Friday night while the wifed up crew take on the town - have a seat! We know what we’re doing. We’re waiting on our lifelong tattoo, not our OPI nail lacquer that only lasts two weeks.