No Life Unlived...

Hi *waves*. So I’m sitting here with my faux wedding rings on, trying to get an entry in before my Ambien starts to kick in, and it got me thinking about marriage and what role that plays in my life.

I’ve never thought of myself as marriage material. Considering the fact that my mother has had three failed marriages and I have a very slight almost non-existent chance of having a baby, I really don’t have much to bring to the table as far as a man is concerned. Also considering the fact that I can cook, but don’t, can clean, but only if a gun is to my head, and have a problem acquiescing to authority, I just really shouldn’t get married or even think about the subject… yet I do. Deep down, I want the husband and the house and the kids. I want happiness and sex from someone who is obligated to put out by law. Yeah, I want all that and it pisses me the fuck off.

See, I am a big fan of logic. Logic is our friend. It tells us when we are being stupid. It reminds us of the natural order of things. And when we try to fuck that up with our selfish wants, logic slaps us on the ass and promptly drags us back to reality. Seeing as I have a tendency to loose myself in fantasy, I need a smack on the cheeks every once in a while to let me know that I am tripping. And I thank logic for providing that service. Really… I do. So why is it that logic has not stepped in, given me a swift and tart whack on the booty and said, “No, Tiffany. Marriage is not for you. Stop thinking about it; stop talking about it. That will never be apart of your life. You are one of the freaky people.” I think logic may have abandoned me or worse, been over taken by my biological clock which longs for love and companionship *shivers with disgust*.

All this is being dredged up because in the last two years, I’ve been really noticing man and quite frankly, getting crushes on them. I am not the crushing type. Two years ago I wasn’t the least bit interested in what a man thought of me. I was just myself, destined to spend my life as a widely talented yet tragically stunted spinster under the thumb of her overbearing mother. And the sad thing is, I was okay with that. I’d resigned myself to that destiny. Of course I was in the turbulent throws of a vicious depression that danced thoughts of suicide in my head, but still, how pathetic. I know now that my life isn’t going to end up like that. I’ll be damned if I let it, but I don’t think my new path is going to fare any better and this crush thing is getting out of control. Literally.

I don’t have the social nor domestic skills to be in a relationship with anyone. And for a minute there, I breathed a sigh of relief. When all my friends were getting into relationships and experiencing sex and love, I was left behind, being that notoriously late bloomer that I am. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was experiencing this except me. Did I wonder why? Sure I did, but I felt blessed and also had a chance to witnessed what happens after the love fades and your boyfriend has found himself a new bitch. Yeah, I was the shoulder that everyone cried on, and I could be that because I didn’t have a date, so I had plenty of free time.

I think I want that bliss and fulfillment followed by languishing pain and heartbreak. I want the life experience, not because I’m jealous of those who had it, but for the simple fact that it is a life experience. And if I am going to try and navigate this thing called life… I need to jump right in and do it all. Leave no stone unturned. Leave no life experience unlived. Leave no relationship unloved.