“Why don’t you get married?”

“Why don’t you get married? - Even today, many single women face the same old problem—one that reflects more about societal limitations than about their individual choices. I speak from experience, because I’ve lived it. One of the most common and deeply irritating questions I’ve been asked—usually by people with extremely low intellect—is: “Why don’t you get married?” This question is never innocent. It’s loaded with assumptions, with the expectation that a woman’s life is somehow incomplete or broken without a man.

They say life with a man is easier. They say that life “together” is better. But let me ask this: easier for whom? Many times, I’ve been pushed almost to the limit by this type of questioning. I’ve felt like I was boiling inside, like a volcano about to erupt, trying to contain my anger at such small-mindedness.

Why would I get married just to make my life “easier”? If I can do everything by myself, if I can provide myself with what I need, what I desire, what I imagine, why would I ever give that up? Why would I sacrifice that autonomy just to conform to someone else's simplistic idea of comfort?

Yes, it wasn’t easy to build everything on my own. But it wasn’t impossible either. And no, that’s not arrogance—it’s reality. The fact that I can do it alone doesn’t make me less feminine, less desirable, or less “complete.” It just makes me capable.

Is it my fault that others are incapable? That they need someone to pay their bills? To fix their lives? To define their identities? Because from where I stand, that makes them the ones who are lost—not me. From my perspective, those people—who cling to others just to survive—are losers. Idiots. Stupid. Limited.

Yes, maybe I would have achieved even more with someone beside me—if that someone were just like me. If he added value. If he could stand beside me as an equal, not as a crutch. But even so, I’m still happy with myself. Truly happy. And the truth is, I have achieved on my own what many couples could not achieve together.

This isn’t just about me. This is about what society projects onto single women: the assumption that they are lacking something, that they must be secretly miserable, that their lives are not full until they are claimed by a man. It’s a lie. A persistent, sexist, outdated lie. And after years of dealing with this toxic nonsense, I finally found the perfect solution.

My fiancé died before the wedding.

That’s right. You have no idea how well it works. It shuts people up. They don’t know what to say. They feel uncomfortable. They assume tragedy, sorrow, heartbreak—and so, they finally stop talking.

And yes, even if the fiancé was only in my imagination, it doesn’t really matter. Because the real tragedy is not his fictional death—it’s the fact that a woman has to invent such stories to escape being harassed about her personal life.