Some things I know are irrelevant and meaningless, but may make you laugh.

1. Rain is not a hazard; driving with your hazard lights on in the rain makes you look stupid; just sayin’.
2. Love is real, and really difficult.
3. The day-to-day is much more complicated than it looks from the outside.
4. We were not meant to live without partnership, friendship, or human touch. We have convinced ourselves otherwise.
5. 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.