Everything male in my life seems destined to drive me crazy. It's been non-stop deluging here for what seems like weeks and weeks and looks to continue, so Oscar is grumpy. He hates being outside but even a 13-year old cat, it seems, has its limits to how much he can sleep.
He has set aside his usual schedule of being my 6-6:30am wake up call in favour of random acts of wee hours town-crying. Today's went off at 1:30ish, and as I had bourbon for supper with a side of ice cubes following a two-hour workout, that and the empty stomach and the general state of churning I've been feeling the last weeks has kept me up. I'm hoping this does not foreshadow a state of churn for all of 2010, as by spring I'll be choked up with butter and drop dead of a cardiac infarction.
So back to the Male driving me apeshit, well: yes. A lover, likely ex-lover, ex-friend, aloof and caustic driving around Nowhereville, Texas. The ex, depressed and lost, still throwing out the odd "We should get back together, man" like that will fix everything. It would be mildly comical if it weren't so half-hearted. A family friend in Europe sending me a short dreamy email that alludes he has fallen into idealization with me following my recent visit. (My sister is quite suspicious on this front, interrogating me like I'd had my carnal way with him instead of just giving him what I thought was a sweet, innocent goodbye kiss).
To add insult to injury, despite all these phantasms shifting and drifting around my life via email and telephone, I am HORNY AS FUCK and LONELY AS HELL and wouldn't mind a date with a real life guy who didn't repel me, or who wasn't 16-years old physically or mentally. Man-child, get thee behind me.
Years of coupledom have made me selectively retarded, and I have no way of gauging guys' ages or their single or not status. I don't know how to approach a guy I remotely am attracted to without seeming like old broad on the prowl. So boo hoo hoo for me. Now I know what it's like to be a single man, keyed up with lust and feeling at a disadvantage. At least they have video games and "buddies" so they can travel in packs.
There I'm done, I now rein myself in with a HA! Even dear readers have their limits in tolerance. It has been pointed out to me that as a single, attractive, financially independent 36-year old who has terrific career/life options open to her following the sale of the country abode, I am living the dream or as a sour friend once put it, “at the top of the food chain”.
Translation: I should quit whining already, and fretting that my life is just sooooooo good but I could be sooooooo happy if only I could fill my heart up with my dreamman to complete me. Guilty as charged! and I'm fucking working on it, but it would still be nice to fill at least part of my need aka did I mention I'm horny as hell? There's that fucking cat at the door.
Excuse me, my usual Poignant Bravery is slipping. I'm defenceless at 4:02am. I'm tired of being myself at such times.
I take solace that we all feel this way, and I don't get to pass go and collect $200 just because I did 150 pushups in two hours yesterday (and had a dude ask me, so, how old are you anyway? like there was an ongoing bet in the club, after I pointed out to the whining teens exclaiming they can't do it, not even 20 pushups that indeed they can if I can).
I take solace that we're all adrift, and wishing we were elsewhere at times, and wishing we were not ourselves but someone better or more together. This too shall pass. In the meantime, please enjoy my snarl.
Epilogue: Last night I did a Flintstone and threw the cat out for the night. I slept uninterrupted for the first time in months. My god. New mothers: you have my full and imperfect sympathy.
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