On Marriage.. my marriage

I am beginning to realize that single life is pretty well satisfying. I have a great job wherein I have the least amount of misery in exchange for the most amount of compensation. I have a wonderful family and a small network of loyal, entertaining, law-abiding friends. Wow, I'm only 33 and I'm finally happy! Who would have thought I'd be happy and not even married?

It is becoming clear that what I was looking for years ago may not be what I need. Do I need a man? Why did I want to get married so badly when I was in my late twenties?

Probably because everyone I knew was married, and I was beginning to feel defective on some levels. But I am not compatible with marriage. I see the struggle for stability and survival which ensues as soon as a child takes his first breath. Such a responsibility. I know that if I had found myself with a suitable partner, and we were both committed to raising a family, blah blah blah, life would have been just as great, maybe better. But that is not what has happened, and I can't say that continuing to see myself as the world may see me is healthy.

I may be single. I'm not desperate for a man. I may not have any kids. It's not a tragedy, believe me. I am no Carrie Bradshaw type with money to spend and beautiful dresses to wear to swanky parties, at which I always know someone. Just not me, and it doesn't even sound appealing.

I am not compatible with marriage. I like to live in my own way. When I was married, I hated the way my husband would wake up every morning crabby, for no reason at all. He reasoned that all men are crabby, and they just need "a few hours" to wake up. Well, it always ruined my mornings. Now, I get to wake up and be just as gleeful as I fucking want to be.

I like to live my own way. Truth: I hated sex. I really did. Here's how sex in our household went. He would take a shower. That was his signal. So I'd take a shower. We would have sex. That would mean that I was all gross and icky, with his gunk sloshing around my vagina. So, while he slumbered in blissful content, I was taking my THIRD shower of the day. Whooppee, I just loved taking three showers a day for no good reason at all. What, just because SOMEBODY had an URGE?

I never got anything out of it. After a year or so, I told him that I just don't get anything out of penetration, so we might need to add a few exercises to our routine. No can do, said my X. He was already tired by the end of the day, and wanted to relax, not do more work.

That's another thing I don't like about men. Well, the men I've always picked anyway. Yeah, it's my own fault, whatever.... they only want sex when they have been titillated by someone OTHER than their partners. X used to watch football, and I know why they always furnish us with cheerleaders gyrating and showing their asses to the cameras. Sure enough, he'd take a shower that night. I understand the whole idea that men are "visual creatures." I think they have been socialized to be that way, but I still get that this is reality.

But Charles Ingalls never showed interest in anybody except Caroline. They were happy. We weren't. Well, sometimes I think X is in the closet and he liked the cheerleaders because he was gay, and the players gave him the real excitement. Who the hell knows. X has made it clear that if he likes women at all, he likes women who are anorexic-looking and who have short hair or even shaved heads. WTF? I have long hair, and I'm definitely not anorexic.

I wondered for the longest time why he asked me to marry him. Maybe because he knew what a prude I was, so he would not be expected to show affection for me?