It’s fascinating.

If you do something crazy like buy a mannequin family or go get drunk alone in the woods as if you’re living in a Gus Van Sant film, you’ll probably get awarded a mental illness diagnosis. One or two people will find out, they’ll bring it back to the village pub, spread the news of your nuttery, and then take the net with the digital torches and pitchforks of sharing your candid craziness online. Pretty standard. But if you do any of that armed with a selfie-snapping camera and gain notoriety for it? You’re a star. A hero with a message. An social revolutionary artist, even. And I’m not disputing the justice of this phenomenon. Because from what I’m seeing today, the results are pretty much amazing.

Bridget for instance, is a chick who makes these “still single” Christmas cards:

And while I don’t believe her backstory for a second, I love her that much more for knowing it would generate the perfect level of pity to make her even more likeable. The claim? She got kicked outta the holiday family photos several years back for being the only one in the family left who was still single and kidless. The rest of this fairy tale is that she spent every subsequent year sending out these gems to spotlight the fact that she’s alone and she still exists – even though her parents want to hide her away like a politician’s extra-marital affair born Down syndrome child. Brilliant. It’s a far more intriguing tale for viral fodder than what’s probably the truth: “My parents keep bugging me about getting hitched. So I removed myself from the sitch. And sent them these cards to let ‘em know ain’t shit’s changed.”


(Took me a sec to realize they’re all her. Derp. It’s late. Gimme a break)

Then, othe contrary to “Just Bridget”, there’s Single Suzanne (not her real nickname, but totes should be).

Suzanne Heinz will never have to worry about her daughter growing up and sending her cards like these. That’s partially because she can identify with Bridget – being single and all. And it’s partially because her daughter’s made of non-sentient plastic (she gets it from her daddy). Just like Bridget’s pool beau above.


(Wait… this one’s too real for comfort. Is he looking at me?)

The sine wave of judgmental emotions I went through while watching the Huffpost interview she did included likening her to my third grade art teacher, likening her to a Hitchcock character, and then finally just liking her for making the perfect family who’ll never make you feed them or tell you that handbag’s too expensive. Plus, in her security about these little photo-ops she’s done, she’s managed to gain enough notoriety to make money off’a interviews. And why stow away any of that cash for college funds for a real kid when you can globe trot with your fake one? And take more pictures? So you can do more photo shoots to get interviewed about and paid for?

In the end, these chicks may not have fams, but their madness captured on camera has def captured my heart. B & S, you’re officially both my spirit animals of the week. And on that note, I’m gonna go thank my mom over coffee for unconditionally loving my single ass. Even if that’s only because she just wishes she was still single too.

At least I can sleep better knowing I’m one rung above some on the single sanity ladder.

(*Rifles nostalgically through photo album filled with dogs, food, sunsets, and memes*)

K. Maybe half rung.