Some things I know are irrelevant and meaningless, but may make you laugh.
- Rain is not a hazard; driving with your hazard lights on in the rain makes you look stupid; just sayin’.
- Love is real, and really difficult.
- The day-to-day is much more complicated than it looks from the outside.
- We were not meant to live without partnership, friendship, or human touch. We have convinced ourselves otherwise.
- Yes, we all have preferences, and the pool is much bigger when we are young.
The above is not everything I know; it is simply a silly list of ‘things’ that on the surface feel connected to why I continue to sleep alone every single night.
I have spent the past couple of years attempting to find Mr. Right, because I believed somewhere in the world he had to exist. I realized I spent too much time alone and was weary of trying to do it all alone. After putting myself out in the dating pool, several attempts at first, second, and third dates, and even a couple of short and abysmal failed relationships, I have realized I will probably have to accept I am past my expiration date.
I am sad about this, but perhaps not surprised. Some of the things I have heard from some of these so called mature (e.g. grown assed men) are:
- To old
- Wait, aren’t we the same age?
- To flawed
- This was a body-shaming comment, specifically, I am not a Barbie doll, I don’t wear make-up, dye my hair, or any of the other things that would make me socially acceptable.
- To opinionated
- Right, I have them, and they are usually backed by facts. I am a font of fact-based opinions, which I will hold up to anyone any day of the week. Don’t bring it if you don’t want to get burned.
- To smart
- Yes, more than one man has told me my brain is intimidating. They are looking for someone more arm candy-like who will not embarrass them by speaking.
- To unavailable
- This meant I didn’t drop everything to serve them on a whim. Yes, that is what they expected. Leave work, defer my plans, even put myself at risk if needed, so they were served. Really, Sir, I don’t know you like that.
In the simplest terms: too much or not enough.
Those were just the highlights. Fantastic right? The men I have met have all behaved as if they were somehow doing me a favor. Fools who have convinced themselves their presence is enough and nothing more is required of them. These man-children have somehow gotten it into their heads that they are THE GIFT, despite their inability to provide even the simple things necessary to create and sustain a relationship.
If I weren’t so depressed by it, I would find it fascinating.
I have always found human behavior interesting. Where do people get their ideas? Why do they behave the way they do, especially when it is contrary to their best interest? Don’t misunderstand, I have been known to do the same thing, in all honesty, I have been told that my desire for ‘privacy’ in certain aspects of my life is in large part the cause of my divorce, yes, it is true. My desire to keep aspects of my history as just that, history, led to a disconnect, misunderstanding and mistrust.
Well, I still don’t disclose. Strange. I write my history in these pages under a name that isn’t mine. Sometimes, I disclose my blog to anyone interested in reading so that anyone genuinely interested could dig through a decade of writing and find what they were looking for. I am reticent to discuss, and I suppose it is my nature because I do not wish to look at the pity, answer the questions, or even sometimes see the naked ugliness of blame that many in my generation still assign.
What I want to know, why does everyone believe our history is their business? It is a mystery to me. You can’t fix it, you can’t change it, you can’t kiss the booboo and make it all better. Let us keep our secrets if that is what we wish. Not all of us want to tell you about our trauma’s and drama’s, not all of us want you to know we were gang raped at 11 or that our first real ‘love’ partner beat us into unconsciousness, more than once. Some of us want the past to stay in the past, where we have locked our demons away so we can live our lives.
If I tell you I don’t blame all men, I am telling you the truth. I am also telling you the truth, if I tell you I
don’t drag my history into my future. But I should not have to tell you the intimate details of the brutality of my past to make you comfortable. I rose up, I survived, I am more than my past. All of those things those men saw, those things that intimated those man-children, those things that created me, the woman I am, the warrior-queen, THE GIFT I am; those are my past, and I am not ashamed but they are mine and I feel under no obligation to share them.
Unfortunately, it leaves an overwhelming sadness to know that now the road ahead is shorter than the road behind, and I seem destined to walk the rest of it alone. This wasn’t what I had envisioned when fighting those battles to survive, grow, and heal.
Dear God, it has been a while since we have had a heart-to-heart. Not that I don’t talk to you every day about the small things, about family and friends who need your guidance or small blessings. I do this every single day. Not that I don’t thank you for my own small blessings, including just waking up every single day; you and I have this chat more than once a day, sometimes more. I know God; much of our talks are not what many would consider ‘prayer,’ but they are the best I can do, and I know you aren’t as concerned with form as you are with the simple act of acknowledgment. Talking with you, God, it seems to be falling on Deaf ears, so I thought it was time for another letter.
48) is too weak, that violence must be met with greater violence and encourage their parishioners to acts of sedition, racial hate crimes, and openly carrying weapons of war on the streets of our cities.
who love the violence, who worship the darkest parts of this new and ugly church that has risen in your name, are following. The inevitable end will be nothing short of catastrophic; millions will suffer and die if you allow these liars and false prophets to continue to speak in your name. Only those who embrace the worst in humanity will be left standing to speak your name if you continue to allow them to claim you as their own unless there is a reckoning.
I am sitting here in the quiet of my own space wondering what in all the world I should do with all the spare time I have. You know, the time that stretches in front of me into the horizon of the unknown. I hadn’t thought there would be this narrow and dark void I would be walking along, not now when things should be settled, peaceful, and maybe a bit brighter than they are. But here I am, staring down a future that feels uncertain and frequently terrifying.
journey during the remainder of our lives.
Unfortunately, things don’t always go as planned. Twice in this decade, I thought I had found that person who would stay, walk beside me, and partner with me as an equal. I was wrong; in the end, they were there for what they could get for themselves. At the end of the day, I was always wrong. Ultimately, I learned that broken trust breaks something inside of us that isn’t easily repaired.
I have not made New Year resolutions in decades. They are a form of self-flagellation in which I find little purpose and much to be afraid. What possesses any of us to sit down at the end of each year and make a list of all our ‘failures’ and then make a list of all we will do ‘better’? Really, are we demented? Or maybe we are simply defeatists at heart.
You see? Self-flagellation.
though, that I what I seek is something different than grace. It is more, that I don’t hate myself for all my mistakes, for the things I could have done differently, for the secrets I could have told and choose not to. I know that too frequently, I put myself in the way to be hurt as retribution for the wrong I believed I did. In retrospect, I didn’t deserve that, yet I did it anyway at great expense to an already savaged spirit.
Do you know sometimes you can go most of your adult life focused on the wrong things, working hard toward a future that in the end will not be what you planned or expected. Never mind as you sit and contemplate where you are and what you have done, your dreams have not been fulfilled. You can break yourself, physically and emotionally for that pot of gold at the end of that proverbial rainbow and find nothing but pyrite. You can give everything worthwhile up, sacrifice to the pantheon and what you will have in the end will be rooms filled with the chaff of broken dreams. In a world that values the trappings of success above nearly all forms of decency and compassion, far too many of us have fallen victim to the sales job. Now we are learning, there are no ‘do overs,’ for our failures and regrets.
our way through the maze of often terrifying new experiences? Many do, while some cling to what we know in an attempt to stave off the changes we see around us. The bombardment of information, especially social norms and expectations that may be significantly different from what we know is enough to make our heads spin and our hearts stutter to a standstill.
a close brush with our fragility, this lesson remains with us for the remainder of our years, we either become risk-averse or alternatively we become what is now known as adrenalin junkies. It is an important lesson to learn, our mortality put in perspective, our place in the world filtered down into more realistic terms, more digestible bites. Over time, there will be more masterclasses to embrace, more blows to our confidence and we will in most cases survive them to tell the stories to the next generation.
ambitions are focused. We are insulted by the very suggestion that we might not be ready, or all the Gods forbid we may not know all we need to know.
I know we have an infinite well of compassion, empathy and love at our disposal. We are bottomless, we are never tapped out. Not ever in our lifetimes do we run out of ‘good’.
QBG_Tilted Tiara 