I’ll invest in me, thanks

6 Sep

For someone who doesn’t actually want a boyfriend when she has prospects (poor Date God, et al), I complain an awful lot to Circe about other girls having boyfriends.

When I’m complaining, it makes perfect sense. (Doesn’t it always?)

But when I step back and look at what I’m saying…

Well, I mystify myself.

I am one of those perpetually single girls. Always have been. Even with Poopface I wasn’t really in a relationship. Just a very long nothing.

I like men! They take me on dates, and they’re fun to do things with (sexy and otherwise). But… at the end of the day I like my life the way it is: Mine.

Single, I have the freedom to see friends or family or anyone, really, when and where and how I want – or not.

Having a boyfriend would interfere considerably with this lifestyle. Boyfriends require time, scheduling, sacrifice. They require… commitment. The drawbacks seriously outweigh the benefits, here.

So why do I feel the need to complain when other girls get dates? (Getting dates requires going Somewhere other than work, the gym, home and to dinner with friends; this Somewhere is not a place I am often compelled to visit, you understand.)

Why? Because I feel like I should want to be these girls who are going on dates and having relationships and am I MISSING something, here?

Society and RomComs – and most of my friends and family, to be honest – are so concerned with pairing people up. Is messing with feelings and being concerned about finding time to be with a specific someone on a more than oftenish basis supposed to be my main concern in life?

A clue: No.

It’s no secret that I don’t particularly like people (to make a gross generalization that is largely true). Once you’ve passed my not inconsiderable number of tests, however, you’re in and I will do pretty much anything for you. You have to really want in, though, because I am impossibly uninterested in anything new or involving Change. (Just ask Polly… it took nearly two years of her mistaking my indifference for hate and an assignment to memorize symphonies before we finally broke down the barriers and became friends.) ((Go fight the dragon and cut it’s head off!!)) (((I’m pregnant… I will run away!))) ((((I am the fucking king, I am the fucking KING!))))

Ergo, my supreme disinterest when faced with romantic entanglements: they are an investment I am not currently prepared to make.

And, as according to my father I’ve already missed the boat for finding someone with whom to rock on the front porch in my old age… (Should have found future Mr. Penny in college apparently. Sorry, Pops. No grandchildren for you.) Well, good thing I live in an enlightened age where women are allowed to make decisions for themselves.

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