I promise I’m mostly well-adjusted

My mom is of the attitude that you need a man to have a good life. I’ve fought her for 31 years, saying that you need a great career, good friends and enough money to buy fun stuff.

Notice that I’m 32 and while I’d rather be alone than with someone who makes me miserable, you read stories like this about people celebrating their 78th wedding anniversary and, well, it makes you wonder about your own remaining years and what they will — or, *gasp,* won’t — hold.

Not that I expect to *live* 78 years, mind you. But someone important to me is celebrating his 45th wedding anniversary right now, and it sort of creeped up and crawled under my skin while I wasn’t looking. I want to start to say, “Well, he deserves this great thing,” and then I think, “Um, don’t most of us?” I can’t guarantee I’m going to live another 45 years, let alone be married that long. I can’t even conceive of being married for 45 days, and not in a Brit-Brit, quickie Vegas hitching/annulment sort of way.

I want to crack my head off of something rather than admit that this stuff has, seemingly overnight, started to matter to me. I always thought that my 30s would be better than my 20s and that I’d have plenty of time for domestic bliss — that I should enjoy the interim as much as possible. But the 30s, so far, um … suck. I try to remind myself daily how special I am and how talented and bright and wonderful and blahblahblah I am. But when you’re dancing in your kitchen on a Friday night, god it feels so pathetic.

And I don’t mean any harm by saying this, but when faced with the real-live possibility of it, I’ve never had a vision of “forever” — I don’t know that I was ever brave enough to think that far ahead. God, I barely thought past wondering how fast I could put another notch in the bedpost, an attitude from which I’ve drifted because, enh. Hasn’t gotten me anywhere. That and the more layers I have on (i.e., the less anyone sees), the happier I am. 😉

Like my one old friend used to say, “If you plan to sleep over, you’d best be prepared to SLEEP!” ‘Cause they weren’t going to do a damn thing else. Smart girl!

But before I get too far off-topic, I think I’ve mostly met people whom I would like to know for a long time to come, but maybe not in *that* capacity. Not past a certain point, anyway. I’m funny that way — I *know* instantly. With perhaps one exception, I knew when to sign the DNR and move on. Sometimes I pulled the plug way too early or didn’t even afford it so much as a fighting chance. But in either event, I never looked back. The only real regret I have is with the one I tried so hard to win — god, the desperation of which a girl can be capable when she’s not careful. But the smart thing I did was not put all the proverbial eggs into that proverbial basket. I had my wits about me enough to stay occupied.

I wish I still had that attitude sometimes. Not that I’d say I’m *waiting* for anything specific (and I admit, I wouldn’t tell you if I were), just for something I’d enjoy for more than a minute or that would be an investment as opposed to a trade. Something for which I would be willing to go balls-out, let’s give it our all and see what happens. No more of this holding back shit that we all do for whatever reasons we set said limitations. Sure, keeping the mystery alive is one thing (and a tantalizing one at that); but sometimes you wonder if everyone isn’t just working hard to disguise the fact that there’s little else beyond the guessing, because what you imagine is probably much better than the reality. And how could you commit yourself to 45 years of that?

Back in the day, and maybe even now although I need to remind myself sometimes, I do think I subscribed to the theory that things would work out in the end. Lord knows I went to enough psychics that told me who I’d marry and any offspring that might appear. And I still wonder about that, although they sure as hell got the age range wrong. (Married by 27? Kid by 29? Seriously.) Maybe they meant 37. Ha.

In any event, god this blog has turned into a little whine-fest. OK, maybe it hasn’t turned, as maybe it always was. But you don’t come here to be entertained, right? 😉

It’s not that the biological clock is ticking (hated the tune; smacked the “snooze”) or that I am a disciple to Mom’s preaching to find a good man so I can enjoy my life already. But now is the time that I’ve awakened and started to shiver like a purse dog because not only do I not have a plan, I don’t even have plans to formulate a plan. I’m an overachiever, for cripes’ sakes, and it seems like I’ve found a battle I cannot even get suited up for, let alone win.

And I know, I know, the 30s are supposed to get better and the 40s are awesome. I just fear I’ll be hitting my sexual peak with nothing but a suitcase full of 20 vibrators and 17 jars of flavored lube that my tongue simply cannot reach if it’s only on me. 😀 My friend’s husband was joking with me that I am probably the type of girl who has a toy in the shower. I had to correct him — it’s actually in the toothbrush holder so that I don’t spray it with Tilex!

4 Responses to I promise I’m mostly well-adjusted

  1. trouble :

    Let’s see.

    This is just going to be me, from 40, talking about meeting someone with whom to spend the rest of your life, and how to do it.

    There is no better weight loss plan than a divorce. In my case, I lost 35 pounds just during the separation. It was a bitch, but I looked better at the end of it than I had in years. Not to sound shallow, but if you’re looking for the love of your life, that helps…A LOT.

    Screw it…I’m doing a post about this.

  2. Chris :

    My Grandparents were married 67 years. I say it not for applause ( they were not my favorite people) but sheer wonderment. That number is unfathomable to me, let alone 78.
    What do you talk about? Haven’t you heard every damn thing that person has to say by then? Unless it’s an age/dementia rant, which are always fun to hear.
    As for trouble’s 35 lbs, first, congrats, and second, for me it was 20 lbs. And not feeling worthless which set me free.
    We all have standards, of course. But do we ever lose the “perfect” perception that we maintain in our minds? I don’t know we do. I, for one, am in love with the fictional woman who is A) Half Betty Crocker, half Jenna Jameson.B) Intelligent, outspoken, and fun to be around. C) has her own set of friends and doesn’t depend exclusively on you for a social life. and D) willing to maintain seperate residences, at least for a while. Get together for 4 or 5 nights a week, the other 2 or 3 spent apart. Gives us a chance to miss eachother, for one, and two, the relief that accompanies the feeling that you can come home, not talk to anyone (on the nights you are alone) and not be asked “are you mad at me” or ‘what’s wrong?”
    We all have one. I think it’s when we get distracted by someone real who “rocks your world” that you can envision a life, a good life, with that person, while holding on to some standards to measure up.
    A mate is always an optional accesory, not mandatory. Friends are the ones who are not optional.

  3. Sabre :

    Well-adjusted is over-rated 🙂

    That being said, and me being a complete whackjob from hell, feel free to take from this what you will… of course, we shall all keep in mind that I am very bitter right now and rather like it.

    I’m beginning to seriously wonder if it is even possible in modern society for people of our age range (I’m not that much older than you, shut up!) to even find the one true thing. I mean, I think my sister did, but how much of that is her fairy tale that she makes herself believe? I dunno, probably just me being bitter.

    I’ll stick with my four legged friends. At least they don’t try to screw me over and rip my heart out for having the unmitigated gall to stand up for myself. Whatever was I thinking?

    /bitter tirade


  4. trouble :

    It’s possible, but since my one true and I had a hideous fight last night, I’m going to leave the lengthy post I blogged about the concept of finding the one true until a later date. it’s just too damn hard.

    We did make up, of course. But, as a single friend and I were talking about today, there really are plusses and minuses to the whole alone thing. Normally, I think about the minuses. This morning, i was kind of dwelling on the positives until he said the 6 perfect words that made my anger magically evaporate.