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In Defense of Being Single (and bitter)
I'm tired of talking about searching for that "special someone" (gag). I'm also tired of not writing about it on here because I've given too many people I know this web address and now I'm afraid of coming off as desperate and/or needy. THEN I remembered that I'm not supposed to give a fuck about what y'all think about me. I hate that I keep forgetting that. So if you know me (or think you know me, or met me that one time when my hair was wonky and my mascara was running and now think we share some kind of bad hair day bond, or whatever) I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you that I'm not writing this for you, and you can think whatever the Hell you want to think, and I CAN'T HEAR YOU I CAN'T HEAR YOU *NEENER NEENER NEENER* I CAN'T HEAR YOU. And also? Shut up. So - that said. I'm tired of having conversations that turn into "woe is me when am I ever going to meet Mr. Wonderful and why is everyone either 45 or a total schmuck and maybe the best idea isn't to drown my sorrows in a pint of Ben & Jerry's but to each her own and maybe it's me? It's probably me. I'm too bitter. I'm not pretty enough. I'm too self sufficient. I'm intimidating. I'm too submissive. I'm too loud. I laugh too much. I have that wonky tooth and that fucking mole. Wait a minute, it's not fucking me I'm fucking FABULOUS. It's them and FUCK them if they can't see how brilliant and hilarious and unbelievably cute I am! I'm the best girlfriend ever! I cook! I clean! I am patient and understanding and I like sports and I like outoorsy things and I'm not afraid of getting dirty and I'm not afraid of working hard and I'm not afraid to kick your ass in any fucking game we ever play - EVER. I'm gentle and caring and the most empathetic goddamn girl you're ever going to meet in your entire fucking life. I give. God. I GIVE AND I GIVE AND I GIVE AND I GIVE and I expect stuff in return, yeah - but that's not the point of my giving. It never has been. I have a super rad dog and no - I will probably never love you as much as I love him but if you're nice to him and you treat him well, it'll be pretty damn close. So fuck you if you can't see all this goodness in me and fuck me for caring." And yeah - I'm tired of those conversations. Heh. I'm tired of those conversations because they keep coming up and at the end of them I feel just as helpless and lost about it as I did when the conversation started. Maybe even moreso. And the truth of the matter is that I don't sit around day in and day out pining away for Prince Charming to come in and sweep me off my feet. I have other things to worry about, other things to occupy my time. I have fun friends and a goofy dog and a house that creates a new project every week and a family that - well - they're just always there. Always. I suppose I'm also a little tired of thinking about it. A little tired of acting on it. My friend Miss M is going to try out that 3 minute dating thing that's all the rage at the big city bars these days. Sarah tried her hand (albeit in a very half assed fashion) at internet dating. It's as though we're all running around out here with little subconcious ghouly bastards whispering in our ears "time is running out! time is running out!" Dude! Shut up! It is NOT running out! What the fuck is your hurry? When did that clock start ticking? Is it because out of nowhere everyone in your former social circle decided it was time to get hitched? That's THEM. What they do is not ABOUT you. So shut up little ghouly bastard! I don't want to hear it! I don't want to think about it! I want to surround myself with my single friends and drink some beer and have heated discussions about politics and the sex we're not having but that we used to have so we know a thing or two about it - and then go home and curl up with my dog and be content with that like I was before the imaginary clock started ticking and my desperation set in. So why can't I do this? Why do I feel the need to reaffirm, in almost every conversation I have, that I have put this in God's hands and I will find someone great when I'm meant to find someone great and not a moment sooner. Why do my discussions with long lost friends turn to an explanation of followed closely by a defense of my love life within the first 10 minutes? Why do I feel guilty about the fact that I've been single (discounting the few brief periods of casual dating) for almost 2 years now? Why does this make me think I am flawed or abnormal? Why do I spend so much time thinking about it, talking about it, worrying about it when there are so many more positive ways to spend this energy? God. Shut up self. It's because I'm a girl. Last night, watching the Bachelor, we decided that if I were to go on the show, I'd be the most crazy one. And not crazy in a "Crazy Christie" way that would involve a lot of crying and declarations of premature love (cuz yo - that so ain't my style) but crazy as in I'd be the one sitting on my bed freaking out about the fact that the Bachelor said something benign - along the lines of "maybe I'll catch up with you later." "MAYBE? MAYBE????? What the fuck does THAT mean? MAybe? Fuck! Does he like me? He totally hates me. I'm so not getting a rose. FUCK HIM! God. But - oh. Y'know. Maybe could be a good thing too y'know, and it's not like he'd be allowed to tell me that he's madly in love with me this early in the season. I bet he loves me. Oh my God. WE ARE SO GOING TO HAVE 800 BABIES! Yay love! Love is grand! Mrs. Shelly Bachelor. Yay!" God. Help me.
************************************** Still Reading: Advanced Sex Tips for girls. It's taken a really random turn. I think I've figured out that it's really just a collection of articles that Cynthia Heimel has written over the years. It's still good though. I definitely see a lot of myself in her. I swear it will be finished by tonight. Recently Saw: Dawson's Creek last night. For the serious. I almost passed out. How dare they rope me in to caring so much about Pacey & Joey again and then hit me with some Eddie. How DARE they? Who do they think they are anyway? I was floored. And now I don't know what I want! Maybe Pacey and Joey should wind up together so Eddie and I can live happily ever after. That sounds fair. Oh my God. Only 6 episodes left. I am sure to perish. Also. The Bachelor. Blah. He's still cute, but he pales in comparison. I used to be self conscious about being a huge television nerd. Now? Fuck off. |
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