Crossroads

I'm sorry to keep harping on the same thing, but its kind of what keeps floating to the surface of my consciousness.

I feel bad that I treat this blog like a personal (ahem) diary, which means I'm only moved to write when I'm feeling sorry for myself.

I promise: more cheerful posts on Twilight, The Muppets, my love for comedy, the hilarious cat, my great friends etc. etc. ad nauseam to come in the future.

But now, I don't know what to do.

I'm at a crossroads.

I've been doing this whole "I'm just fine" thing for a while now, and I'm worried I can't do it anymore.

I'm not.

I'm not *fine*.

and I'm upset about it.

And I wish it wasn't. I'm sorry I have this desire, this urge. I DO want a husband and a family and all of that. I wish I didn't, but its how it is. And I feel like I'm supposed to hide that or apologize for it to any guy today who I may stand a chance with; so as not to scare anyone away. When did this happen? Women are the gatekeepers to the perpetuation of LIFE for chrissake. Why do we have to mask this miracle in spanks and budlights, false smiles and forced laughs?

I wish I didn't give a shit. I assure you, it would be easier.

But I do care.

and I have a choice- I can go one of two ways.

Give in to my despair. Let myself get angry about my situation. Feel sorry for myself. Have more nights in of crying and white wine in the bubble bath. Rant and rave and fight against my circumstances. Cut out the self-deprecating "crazy cat lady" jokes because they're suddenly too close to home. Rage.

Or

The one I'm even more afraid of. Accept. Consider the very real possibility that I will never find anyone. I have this niggling fear that this is the best path. Perhaps I'm built the way I am because I can survive on my own. I'm an only child, and I get a lot of satisfaction out of my friends and my cat and my comedy. My life is still a C+ without any romantic interest in it. Maybe I'm programmed this way because it is a survival skill I'll need.

My friends always tell me "you WILL find someone," and I can't help but doubt them. No one can say that with certainty. See, I believe that every last person deserves a someone, but it just doesn't always happen. I'm so scared of being that statistical anomaly of the 65 year old single lady.

Not even an Aunt because I don't have any siblings.

And this thought gives me the cold sweats. This isn't some sort of pressure concern that I won't have someone's hand to hold at midnight on New Year's Eve. Not a petty complaint about lack of physical fulfillment. This is a bone-crushing, heart-breaking, gut-wrenching terror that when I'm old, I won't have anyone to call if I'm sick. I'm scared that I'll have to travel the world, and never have someone else to stand in pictures with me. I'll have to buy all of my own Christmas ornaments. No one will ever let me promise to take care of them.

And I don't know which is more scary: having or not having the strength to withstand; get by.

And perhaps this complacent wondering while I wait to decide which way to go is the worst part of all.

Because it's not hard enough

That's what she said.

SO.

I'm single.

I say that because it may not be as obvious to everyone out there in interwebs land as it is to me.
Because to me, its REALLY apparent. I believe the sage and gracious Dane Cook once said that not being in love is like walking along a street in the rain, and everyone is at a party, and you're not invited.

I'm there.
It's in my face. All. The. Time.
All 3 of my lovely roommates are in relationships with great guys.
I'm friends with lots of married people who have it great.
Other friends are one half of couples that seem to have a good thing going for them.

But not me.

I can't help but feel like its everywhere I look.

And my friends are so supportive. They try to bolster me up when it gets rough. The encourage me, give me advice, or just hug me when I get drunk and despondant.

None of it helps. There's just nothing any of them can say. And that's not their fault- they're all dears who just want the best for me.

The most helpful thing came from my dear friend who just said, "I'm mad about it for you. It just doesn't make any sense."

Now, everyone says "stop looking". Less than helpful.

"Focus on YOU!" gets old after a while.

And the "try losing a few pounds" people can choke on a McDouble- that is, if I leave any left for them.

ahem.

So you try. You try to focus on yourself. You try not to compare your life to those "taken" people around you. You try to have a good attitude because "Men don't like Women who need them." You fight off the cynicism. You resist despair.

But it gets hard.

Lately, I've been weak when resisting my "singlehood".

I've seen guys in my sphere who I thought were potential prospects act like utter morons. So it's not that you don't want to be shmoopy, its just not with ME. Gooooooooot it.

There are cracks in the veneer. There have been times that should have been perfect, but I can't help but notice that I still feel alone. My friends are amazing, and I fill my days with fun and exploration, but its not enough.

So I've been trying to be proactive. I firmly beleive in "stop bitching, start a revolution" so I've tried things to meet new people. I've taken up new hobbies that have exposed me to whole new universes of people. I've tried internet dating, just to see what it was all about.

And a few weeks ago, I signed up for speed dating.

It's really close to my house, and I figure "I can't whine about the problem if I'm not doing anything to fix it."

So I shelled out my $40. And shyly told a few friends. And picked out an outfit.

And the organization just emailed me to cancel it. No refunds. Oh- but I CAN reschedule for another speed dating event, and have a free voucher for a second one.

The reason: there weren't enough men.

Poetic.

I could have told you that.

Because its not hard enough as it is.