I am in that age when everybody is starting to get annoyingly concerned about the lack of husband and babies in my life.
Seriously, why the hell is it so important? Men, please, tell me you get nagged ’bout the lack of the wife to? Pretty, please.
Not babies, though. Or that’s a thing as well?
Anyhow, I am in the age of “ticking clock” and “last chance” to get some, and nobody seems to get that I don’t want any. They only give me pitying smiles, eyes twinkling in understanding way and patting my shoulder sympathetically; saying “you will regret it later”; “it’s a woman’s nature”; “you need to lower your standards”; “why don’t you like this guy!? He’s perfect!” blah, blah, blah.
Fork you all!
I love ’em. I really do and I get it. They are concerned but it’s not my fault that their perception of happy life does not align with mine.
I never wanted to get married. Ever. It’s not my goal.
I am not afraid to be alone. I am not afraid to be lonely. I do not need a man to take care of me, and children….well, that’s optional. Reeeeeeealy optional.
I haven’t dreamed about my wedding. I dreamt of other things. I dream of other things, and even if the potential romantic relationship slip in to those – well, it’s a bit different.
I am happy on my own. I’ve been happy on my own for as long as I can remember. I do not need anyone to complete me, sweep me of my feet and make everything glow. It’s a shity motivation to have when entering any kind of relationship.
Let’s face it – no one can fix you, besides you. You are your own “life line” and “saviour”. The other person is just that – the other person. Sure, you can be lucky enough to meet a highly compatible human being and then your life will become more fun than it is, but if not – who the hell said you cannot be happy on your own?
And those mediaeval expectations and dogmas – URGH!
“You need to cook, clean the house, be a doll (according to the latest fashion-insanity), produce babies, never complain, have a golden heart, interesting personality, engaging character, be great in bed; close your eyes on rudeness, infidelity and take care of every desire your husband will have.”
What he supposed to do!? And men (and I mean men not boys), don’t take offence. I personally believe that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and you don’t need a mother-hen, but – society and it’s standards.
Or the complete opposite:
“I am an independent woman. Don’t tell me what to do! I won’t clean and care for you. I ain’t you mother for fork’s sake! I do what, who and when I want. You have no say in this – what so ever!”
Then why the hell you are in a relationship at all, I wonder…
However, it does not matter. My point is, why it’s so hard to get that there are people who are not fixed on this? Why this maniacal wish to hunt and tie and possess? Are you happy like this? Are you all-right with a lying, abusive cheater or passively aggressive, deadly harpy?
All-right? Why? Because you’re afraid to be alone? Because reasons?
No, no, no.
I don’t want a man because “reasons” and a baby, because “my time is running out.” I don’t care if I die alone and there will be no-one who will bury me. I’ll be dead, geniuses. I won’t care ’bout rotting bag of bones.
What I care ’bout, though, is genuine connection. A wish to stay together “till death do us apart”, and not a divorce layer. A need to grow together; to fall in love every second; to explore and discover; to create and built; to talk; to travel; to live a life that we can be both proud of – to be happy.
But then, according, to all of mine – I ask for too damn much; am idealistic and should start looking for a cat.
Whatever, it’s not my priority, anyway.
and here we go again…