I WAS quite a happy bride.
Maybe I am finally starting to feel comfortable enough in my own skin that I can hold up a mirror without blubbering. My life and my reaction to what happens to me has always been entertaining, but now it's different. Before, I would chuckle at what a hapless turkey I've always been. But slowly it's gotten better, and there hasn't been as much to chuckle about. That's a good thing. Bad for my comedic material, but who the fuck wants to have to listen to my endless stories about what new calamity has befallen this poor creature? Even if I DO make it funny.
So. I'm not living on a fifty-pound bag of rice that some guy gave me when he graduated and couldn't fit it into his puny Honda Civic. I don't even like white rice anyway. That's great. My worthless husband finally decided that he wasn't going to deprive himself of the rock n' roll life any longer, so he blessed me by leaving last year. The poor fool didn't bother to turn back the clock ten years or even to learn how to sing or play an instrument, but that's none of my nevermind. It turned into one of those "Don't let the door..." type of situations in which I was partly devastated, but soon found that this was the BEST thing that could have happened to me. The way I look at it is, I DID plan a beautiful wedding. It was perfect. I did love my husband. Yeah, he was a jerk. But I didn't find that out until AFTER my perfect wedding. I got that all out of the way before I turned 30, so I was still able to act like a happy YOUNG bride. Plus, when he decided he didn't need to contribute to the household, I was forced to give up my vintage apron fetish and become the breadwinner, the MAN of the household. What a fucking BORE it is to leave for work every day, and see your man sitting with his goddamn guitar and a cup of coffee, in his flannel PJs. And then to come home from work to find your man popping wheelies in the driveway on YOUR old Schwinn. Ooooooh no he di'nt!
If (( and I do mean that, dear )) I ever do get married again, I'll definitely go for something dignified and small. But that's not why I started this blog. I started this blog because I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. The man has been gone for close to a year. I'm happy. Kitty is happy. My iPod got stolen and I have not been able to replace it, but I can talk about that later. Point is, I ask myself if there is something missing now? Do I need to have a guy around? Should I be looking for him?
My bitchy sister always knows just what to say. Yesterday we were recalling the beauty and laughter of our little gathering "Up North" when she mentioned that everybody was so glad that AuntMH was around to entertain all of the kids. I responded that yes I realized I was the resident nanny for the week, but I had a great time. I even said that I hope next year we have TWICE as many tea parties. My sister said, "Well, we all thought you were having a good time, since you'll probably never have kids, I mean you probably think about that all the time and you are probably starting menopause right now, so you were just glad to be around the kids." Poor, poor sister. She truly believes that I am just rabid with desire for children, and they were doing me a HUGE favor by allowing this barren old spinster to spend time with their precious little darlings. Doesn't she understand that if I WANTED children, I'd go and get myself knocked up? For chrissakes, I live ONE BLOCK away from a coffee shop that's open late. I could walk in any day of the week, pretend that I smoke, and find some pseudo-intellectual recovering alcoholic to bed, thus impregnating myself, being a woman and all. And no, I'm not going through menopause you stupid hag. I'm only 33. Don't I have like two more years or something?