Yes, I am seeking a husband. As soon as the right man asks me, I

The words of Anna Held, sparkling yet sincere, whisper from a time when grace and wit were a woman’s armor: “Yes, I am seeking a husband. As soon as the right man asks me, I shall say, ‘It is not good for a woman to live alone.’”
Beneath their charm lies a wisdom both tender and defiant — the voice of a woman who knows her worth, who does not chase love in desperation, but awaits it with dignity. Her words speak of longing, yes, but also of discernment; for to say “the right man” is to confess that not all men are worthy, and to add “it is not good to live alone” is to admit that companionship, when true, is not weakness but the completion of one’s humanity.

Anna Held, the famed singer and actress of the early twentieth century, lived in an age of glitter and constraint — when women could dazzle on stage yet be denied the freedom of self. Her statement carries the fragrance of her time, yet its meaning transcends it. In her life, she knew both adoration and heartbreak. Once the muse and beloved of the great Florenz Ziegfeld, she was paraded as a symbol of beauty and success, yet behind the curtains lay solitude. Her words, then, are not the confession of a fragile soul, but the recognition of a universal truth: that even the strong and radiant crave partnership — not to complete their identity, but to share its warmth.

The ancients, too, spoke of this longing. In the beginning, said the storytellers of old, the gods made humanity in pairs, for one alone could not bear the silence of existence. Adam was given Eve, not as servant, but as companion — for even in paradise, solitude was seen as incomplete. Yet the wise among the ancients also taught that love should not be sought from hunger or haste, but from harmony. “As soon as the right man asks,” says Anna Held — thus revealing her patience and her power. She does not wander lost in the pursuit of affection; she waits like a flame steady in the wind, knowing that the one drawn to her light must come with truth in his heart.

Her words echo, too, in the tale of Penelope, who waited twenty years for Odysseus. Alone in her hall, surrounded by suitors clamoring for her hand, she did not despair nor surrender. She wove by day and unraveled by night, holding fast to faith — not because she feared loneliness, but because she knew that the wrong union would destroy the soul more surely than solitude. Like Anna Held, Penelope understood that to choose rightly is nobler than to merely choose quickly. In this, both women stand as guardians of self-respect, reminding all that love without discernment is but gilded emptiness.

Yet, Held’s declaration carries another lesson — that companionship is sacred, not shameful. Modern hearts, hardened by pride, often boast, “I need no one.” But she, though proud and accomplished, dares to admit her yearning. There is courage in vulnerability, wisdom in acknowledging that love, freely chosen, enriches life. To deny the need for connection is to deny a part of the human spirit itself. The strength of a soul lies not in isolation, but in its capacity to give and receive affection without surrendering its dignity.

Let this teaching, then, be carried forth: Seek not a partner to fill your emptiness, but one who recognizes your fullness. Wait not with bitterness, but with calm assurance, for the bond that uplifts, not confines. When the heart speaks, let it not whisper out of fear, but sing with confidence that love is both gift and responsibility. And when the right one comes — not the loudest, not the most dazzling, but the one whose presence feels like peace — answer as Anna Held would: with grace, with humor, and with truth.

For indeed, as she said, “It is not good for a woman to live alone.” But neither is it good for her to live wrongly bound. So live in strength until love finds you; let solitude be your teacher, not your sorrow. And when love knocks — true love, patient and kind — open the door not as one in need, but as one ready to share the fullness of your soul.