I’m a single, professionally employed male, mid-30s, no kids.
I live by myself in a nice middle class suburb of Orlando, in a three bedroom, two bathroom house that I own. It’s in a subdivision with mostly two parent families; I’m the only single homeowner within about a quarter mile radius of my house. I live in a large house, because I have earned that right - I feel that I deserve the same amenities in my living environment as my married peers.
Because I’m “involuntarily celibate,” I’m not married, and I don’t date that much. Thus, you won’t see cars from unfamiliar women parked in my driveway overnight. I’m not “strange” – just “unlucky in love.”
The thought of attractive, compatible twentysomething and thirtysomething women tends to stir my juices. The thought of elementary, middle and high school age kids does absolutely nothing. I’m nice to kids, and I let 'em play with my dog in the cul-de-sac, but otherwise I don’t give them much thought. When you see me in the living room, working on my computer, I’m visiting the SDMB or maintaining my urban planning-related Web site. I’m not looking at, swapping, serving or storing kiddie porn.
Why am I mowing my lawn and doing gardening work at dusk? Because, as I have explained before, I work 9 to 5, I have mild eczema, and it’s easier on the skin if I exert large amounts of physical energy when it’s cooler out. That’s it. It’s not because I’m weird.
I’m not a child molester, pedophile, “candy man” or some other sick creature who preys on children. I’m just a mostly normal single guy who lives alone in a big house. I just wanted to make that clear.
If you’re not a serial killer, then who’s responsible for all those wonderful ongoing radio melodramas having been cancelled!! That’s what I want to know!
I sympathise. I, too, am a rather quiet man who lives alone and keeps himself to himself. It does seem as though that’s a standard description, these days, for someone who commits unspeakable crimes. “Keeps himself to himself” does not mean “keeps seventeen dismembered boy scouts in the airing cupboard”.
These suspicions are unreasonable and annoying. Whenever they find a former launderette owner strangled with his own bicycle frame, it’s always my door the police knock on. It’s getting tedious.
A single guy in the suburbs! You ought to be getting invited to all the backyard bbq’s so that the mom’s and dad’s of the 'hood can fix you up with a nice goil.
Why is that every time a guy lives alone in the suburbs, minds his own business, and occasionally digs a large hole in his backyard at midnight under a full moon which he then refills with dirt and a large wrapped object from the trunk of his car while he alternately sobs and giggles hysterically to himself, he’s automatically assumed to be some sort of serial killer?
That’s what one gets for admitting he’s from Lawrence. On the other hand, if one claimed he was the Johnson County area, one’s peers might forget the “wool” incident. Or at least have enough money to pay others to forget it.
Single men have always had to endure some suspicion about their tastes, motives, and sexuality. I know people who seem to think that protracted bachelorhood is conclusive proof of homosexuality. There’s also the fear of the predatory male; in clothing-optional resorts and clubs it was long traditional not to admit single male members; you could only join as a family, couple, or single female. Then there’s the concept that businesses that cater to single males are tawdry in nature. A few years ago, I read an L.A. Times editorial about revitalizing city life, which argued essentially that city life wasn’t really worth revitalizing, because it was characterized by, among other things, business catering to single males. I assume that these business were bars, strip joints, and pornography shops. Of course, when I was single, I spent a lot of time going to museums, reading books checked out from the UCLA library–I guess I was cutting into the moral fabric there, right?
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*Originally posted by bernse * So, who’s accusing you of being a child molester?
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A couple of neighbors went out of their way to pointout “Hey, I’ve never seen any women stay at your place overnight.” Another neighbor told me that one family has told their kids to be suspicious of me, for safety’s sake. A neighborhood mom admitted that she were suspicious of me when I first moved in, until they got to know me better. She and her husband has seen the inside of my house, they’ve heard my dating horror stories, they know about my workplace and my family. I’m now just a regular neighbor to them.
Strangely, when I lived by myself in a single family house in an urban neighborhood, there never were any suspicions. Then again, it was an area that was experiencing increased gentrification, and the presence of single professionals in their own homes wasn’t unusual. I’m now in a part of the metropolitan area that has very few singles. (I’ve confirmed this by looking through Census statistics, and browsing through match.com.)
As javaman said, “Single men have always had to endure some suspicion about their tastes, motives, and sexuality.” I’m probably bringing down places such as Borders by my presence there. Hey, single man patronizing a business – must be tawdry, right?
Well Elmwood, as I see it, there is only one thing you can do! Start a prostitution business right outside your house. I promise, as long as your employees are old enough, no one will ever accuse you of being a pedophile again.
It worked for me. As a side plus all the men in the neighborhood think I’m the shit.
