Dear Loyal Blogwatchers,
I have a NEW blog. More bitching, less self-pity, with a little bit of "think about it" mixed in. Check it out!
See you there!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Also, why are people so GOD DAMNED RUDE?
I can forgive this coming from the mouths of my friends, or even coworkers. But strangers and casual acquaintances who ask me, "how come you never got married?" really GRIND MY FUCKING GEARS.
My cousin asked me the other day in the course of conversation, "are you gonna have kids ever, or no?" It was a purely innocent question. He's family. He's allowed. But everyone else? You are NOT ALLOWED. You are NOT ALLOWED to ask me personal questions. I don't ask you about that thing on your face, I don't ask you why your taste in clothing sucks, I don't ask you how you lost that tooth. So really, just shut the fuck up, all right?
NO. I'm NOT GOING TO HAVE KIDS. And that's part of the reason I never got married. Men want children. Who knew? And I'm somehow "defective" for lacking a maternal instinct. Somehow I was supposed to ignore that little factoid and just go ahead and push out a couple kids because that's what society says we're "supposed" to do.
I've had men on dating sites tell me straight up that there's something wrong with me for not wanting kids. I've had men cease all communiques once I explain my position.
I even had one guy who swore he didn't want kids change his tune after we'd gone out a few times, though I think he just said that 'cause he knew it'd make me go away.
Maybe there IS something wrong with me. Man...
My cousin asked me the other day in the course of conversation, "are you gonna have kids ever, or no?" It was a purely innocent question. He's family. He's allowed. But everyone else? You are NOT ALLOWED. You are NOT ALLOWED to ask me personal questions. I don't ask you about that thing on your face, I don't ask you why your taste in clothing sucks, I don't ask you how you lost that tooth. So really, just shut the fuck up, all right?
NO. I'm NOT GOING TO HAVE KIDS. And that's part of the reason I never got married. Men want children. Who knew? And I'm somehow "defective" for lacking a maternal instinct. Somehow I was supposed to ignore that little factoid and just go ahead and push out a couple kids because that's what society says we're "supposed" to do.
I've had men on dating sites tell me straight up that there's something wrong with me for not wanting kids. I've had men cease all communiques once I explain my position.
I even had one guy who swore he didn't want kids change his tune after we'd gone out a few times, though I think he just said that 'cause he knew it'd make me go away.
Maybe there IS something wrong with me. Man...
And here we go again
Yet another friend has gotten engaged. Well, not really a friend, but an acquaintance.
And of course her wall is full of congratulatory wishes and hopeful sentiment. And yet...I still just can't seem to get it right.
How do I write this without sounding bitter? Am I just a big jerk for begrudging people their happiness as I wallow in my own cesspool of sadness?
(I should make it clear that when my FRIENDS get engaged or married it's a joyful time and I really am truly happy for them, but it's the casual acquaintances that get to me, for whatever reason).
I'm trying really hard to NOT let this GP thing fuck me up. I'm NOT letting this skew my ideas about love and partnership, which despite my history, lifestyle, and shenanigans are actually quite traditional at the core.
Deep down, I have always wanted to get married, but only if I found the right person, and I could never accept that my life was destined for picket fences and shuttling a Volvo full of kids to soccer practice. (Not wanting kids makes it really hard to find a husband, you know). And yet for some reason, wanting to find a stable and loving partner is viewed as "wrong," and makes you somehow "weak." We're told "you don't need a partner to complete you," and yes, I know this. I lived without one for a long, long time. And I always take a long time between relationships because I want to make sure I'm ready and can apply the lessons of past relationships to the next one. But what is "wrong" with wanting someone to hold and make love to and share meals with and experience life with?
Why is it so wrong to wish you had someone with you to celebrate life's triumphs and sorrows? Why is it a sign of "weakness" to have someone to hold your hand when you're scared? I'm so sick of this god damned "You don't need a man!" drivel that people try to feed you when you're down about a failed relationship. I mean, yeah, it's true that no one will ever love you, know you, or get you off quite as well as yourself, but it doesn't mean you don't need someone.
Maybe I don't need a man to cut the grass or change lightbulbs or kill spiders, and maybe I'm just fine on my own, patching drywall and fixing shit with my power tools. And maybe I even really like sleeping alone, especially when it's hot like it is now. I love having my own space, and I loved that GP had his own bedroom when he lived here. But you know what? Ballroom dancing lessons, scuba diving, miniature golf outings, day trips...there's only so much of that stuff you can do with friends. It's not about being lonely and needing someone to fix what's wrong in your life. It's about finding someone who can co-pilot the ship on life's journey. And my friends are great, they're happy to have me back, but...it doesn't mean I can't still miss what I never had.
I KNOW I'm living in a fantasy world now, thinking I might actually find someone in this crazy, fucked-up world who is suited to be my friend and lover and partner in crime, especially at my age and given my history, my "flaws" (really, men are just so god damned superficial), and my unwillingness to procreate or take up with anyone who has. I do sometimes regret not having kids, to be honest. But it's not so much regret for not having had them, but more that I never got myself into a place where I felt I could be a good parent. If I would have found that place, then maybe I would have felt differently. It's just that the idea of parenthood terrifies the shit out of me, and I could never imagine myself doing it.
I spent TEN YEARS (not counting James because he wasn't "real") being non-committed, footloose, fancy-free, unattached, uninhibited, and selectively lonely before GP came along. Then it was like *pow* I was in love. With someone who has made it pretty clear for the last several months that he does not love me. The same man who had fought tooth and nail for me back in September, the same man who'd told me that NO MATTER WHAT we would stay together and work it out and find a way to make it work...it was all a farce. A game. An experiment. And I knew that it had started out that way, sure, but then it was like...we actually did fall in love, for real. I could have sworn it was the real deal. The man flew 10,000 miles from tropical paradise to Buffalo, New York in the middle of winter to be with me.
So once more I am left trying to figure out what love actually IS. See, this felt unlike anything I'd ever felt before, so I was sure that it had to be it. It was familiar enough in its strength and intensity and woozy side-effects, but then there was something else that I couldn't quite define. There was a pull. There was a connection. And now...I'm just more confused than ever. I do love myself, and I am not necessarily feeling sorry for myself. It's just that I always end up with more questions than answers when this shit happens. And that makes me really fucking sad.
And of course her wall is full of congratulatory wishes and hopeful sentiment. And yet...I still just can't seem to get it right.
How do I write this without sounding bitter? Am I just a big jerk for begrudging people their happiness as I wallow in my own cesspool of sadness?
(I should make it clear that when my FRIENDS get engaged or married it's a joyful time and I really am truly happy for them, but it's the casual acquaintances that get to me, for whatever reason).
I'm trying really hard to NOT let this GP thing fuck me up. I'm NOT letting this skew my ideas about love and partnership, which despite my history, lifestyle, and shenanigans are actually quite traditional at the core.
Deep down, I have always wanted to get married, but only if I found the right person, and I could never accept that my life was destined for picket fences and shuttling a Volvo full of kids to soccer practice. (Not wanting kids makes it really hard to find a husband, you know). And yet for some reason, wanting to find a stable and loving partner is viewed as "wrong," and makes you somehow "weak." We're told "you don't need a partner to complete you," and yes, I know this. I lived without one for a long, long time. And I always take a long time between relationships because I want to make sure I'm ready and can apply the lessons of past relationships to the next one. But what is "wrong" with wanting someone to hold and make love to and share meals with and experience life with?
Why is it so wrong to wish you had someone with you to celebrate life's triumphs and sorrows? Why is it a sign of "weakness" to have someone to hold your hand when you're scared? I'm so sick of this god damned "You don't need a man!" drivel that people try to feed you when you're down about a failed relationship. I mean, yeah, it's true that no one will ever love you, know you, or get you off quite as well as yourself, but it doesn't mean you don't need someone.
Maybe I don't need a man to cut the grass or change lightbulbs or kill spiders, and maybe I'm just fine on my own, patching drywall and fixing shit with my power tools. And maybe I even really like sleeping alone, especially when it's hot like it is now. I love having my own space, and I loved that GP had his own bedroom when he lived here. But you know what? Ballroom dancing lessons, scuba diving, miniature golf outings, day trips...there's only so much of that stuff you can do with friends. It's not about being lonely and needing someone to fix what's wrong in your life. It's about finding someone who can co-pilot the ship on life's journey. And my friends are great, they're happy to have me back, but...it doesn't mean I can't still miss what I never had.
I KNOW I'm living in a fantasy world now, thinking I might actually find someone in this crazy, fucked-up world who is suited to be my friend and lover and partner in crime, especially at my age and given my history, my "flaws" (really, men are just so god damned superficial), and my unwillingness to procreate or take up with anyone who has. I do sometimes regret not having kids, to be honest. But it's not so much regret for not having had them, but more that I never got myself into a place where I felt I could be a good parent. If I would have found that place, then maybe I would have felt differently. It's just that the idea of parenthood terrifies the shit out of me, and I could never imagine myself doing it.
I spent TEN YEARS (not counting James because he wasn't "real") being non-committed, footloose, fancy-free, unattached, uninhibited, and selectively lonely before GP came along. Then it was like *pow* I was in love. With someone who has made it pretty clear for the last several months that he does not love me. The same man who had fought tooth and nail for me back in September, the same man who'd told me that NO MATTER WHAT we would stay together and work it out and find a way to make it work...it was all a farce. A game. An experiment. And I knew that it had started out that way, sure, but then it was like...we actually did fall in love, for real. I could have sworn it was the real deal. The man flew 10,000 miles from tropical paradise to Buffalo, New York in the middle of winter to be with me.
So once more I am left trying to figure out what love actually IS. See, this felt unlike anything I'd ever felt before, so I was sure that it had to be it. It was familiar enough in its strength and intensity and woozy side-effects, but then there was something else that I couldn't quite define. There was a pull. There was a connection. And now...I'm just more confused than ever. I do love myself, and I am not necessarily feeling sorry for myself. It's just that I always end up with more questions than answers when this shit happens. And that makes me really fucking sad.
Monday, May 30, 2011
It's my pity party, and I'll cry if I want to.
I'm 40 today. The big Four-Oh. And everyone keeps telling me that my life begins today.
Good God, I hope so.
I'm trying really hard to be positive about everything, but you know, Mother Nature is a sick bitch, and she decided that this would be a good day for me to start my period. So for the last three days or so, my hormones have been raging, sending me in all kinds of tailspin-like crying jags.
One of the things that has me reeling so hard? Weddings. There were a couple of them this weekend. Not ones I was invited to, thank God, but still - Facebook grants us the great privilege of being able to see photos in near real-time, and so I was treated to photos of lovely brides almost immediately after their weddings. Very lovely brides. Very young, very lovely brides. And then I remember: Oh yeah. I was supposed to get married this year. But I'm not. And hey, I'm 40.
*sob*
Even though my would-be wedding wasn't going to be a huge affair to begin with, I do sometimes regret never having had the chance to be a princess for a day. Yes, yes, I know - it's a hassle and a headache and an expense that I'm better off never having had to expend, but still...the romance, the pretty hair, the cake, the flowers, the dance with the dad...never got to do it. Never will. I never wanted a huge, opulent, outrageous wedding to begin with, but at this point even if I had wanted it, it's silly to do now at this age. And basically what it all boils down to is the underlying issue: It's not the wedding. It's that seeing people's weddings reminds me that I thought I'd found what I never thought I'd find - a partner. And just as quickly as I found him I had to let him go.
This morning someone pointed out (in the presence of my ex, no less) that this was a year of big changes. "Wow, you graduated and now you turned 40, that's a lot!" And all I could think was, "Yeah, and it would have been the year I got married, too, but that ended up in the shitter."
I'm not angry or bitter about the end of my relationship with GP - I know it had to end, and that ending it was the best thing to do for both of us. But that doesn't mean I still don't get sad. And today? Maybe it was seeing GP that made it worse, I don't know. He was the first person to wish me a happy birthday in person, and I think it just set the tone. I still love him, but I'd really do better to just not see him. We're taking a stab at the friendship thing, but I think it is just too early.
Wah wah wah. I know tomorrow I'll wake up and I'll feel better, but today I just want to crawl under a rock and feel sorry for myself. Is that so wrong?
P.S. Guess it's time to change that header up there. Musings of a 30-something drama queen is now a false statement. Sigh.
Good God, I hope so.
I'm trying really hard to be positive about everything, but you know, Mother Nature is a sick bitch, and she decided that this would be a good day for me to start my period. So for the last three days or so, my hormones have been raging, sending me in all kinds of tailspin-like crying jags.
One of the things that has me reeling so hard? Weddings. There were a couple of them this weekend. Not ones I was invited to, thank God, but still - Facebook grants us the great privilege of being able to see photos in near real-time, and so I was treated to photos of lovely brides almost immediately after their weddings. Very lovely brides. Very young, very lovely brides. And then I remember: Oh yeah. I was supposed to get married this year. But I'm not. And hey, I'm 40.
*sob*
Even though my would-be wedding wasn't going to be a huge affair to begin with, I do sometimes regret never having had the chance to be a princess for a day. Yes, yes, I know - it's a hassle and a headache and an expense that I'm better off never having had to expend, but still...the romance, the pretty hair, the cake, the flowers, the dance with the dad...never got to do it. Never will. I never wanted a huge, opulent, outrageous wedding to begin with, but at this point even if I had wanted it, it's silly to do now at this age. And basically what it all boils down to is the underlying issue: It's not the wedding. It's that seeing people's weddings reminds me that I thought I'd found what I never thought I'd find - a partner. And just as quickly as I found him I had to let him go.
This morning someone pointed out (in the presence of my ex, no less) that this was a year of big changes. "Wow, you graduated and now you turned 40, that's a lot!" And all I could think was, "Yeah, and it would have been the year I got married, too, but that ended up in the shitter."
I'm not angry or bitter about the end of my relationship with GP - I know it had to end, and that ending it was the best thing to do for both of us. But that doesn't mean I still don't get sad. And today? Maybe it was seeing GP that made it worse, I don't know. He was the first person to wish me a happy birthday in person, and I think it just set the tone. I still love him, but I'd really do better to just not see him. We're taking a stab at the friendship thing, but I think it is just too early.
Wah wah wah. I know tomorrow I'll wake up and I'll feel better, but today I just want to crawl under a rock and feel sorry for myself. Is that so wrong?
P.S. Guess it's time to change that header up there. Musings of a 30-something drama queen is now a false statement. Sigh.
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