Ever been over something so much your skin crawls at the thought of having to do that something for the rest of your life?
For some, it may be a job, working with a client, a family member or significant other. It’s almost like the “bitch-boo-bye” is on the very tip of your tongue, but you keep your mouth shut, just in case.
For me, right now, I totally want to give my three year single-dom the loudest “BITCH-BOO-BYE” I can muster. I’m so sick of it. It’s like those 80’s Dynasty shoulder pads. For me, it had it’s fashion run and now it’s time to give way to something a little less constricting and itchy and a little more fashion forward (although, some of the celebrity fashion at the BET awards would suggest 80’s shoulder pads are still cute. Alas, I digress).
I know, I know, you’re probably saying that being single is a blessing and that I should feel blessed to have my freedom to take my time to meet my soul mate. Whatever. Being single is great, don’t get it twisted. I can go where I please without checking in. I can come home as I please without checking in. I can do what I want and answer to no one and yes, honey it is delicious when I actually do all of those things.
The truth of the universe is that while I’m a fancy free single girl, I am also a work-aholic. I like to work far more than I like to party. Yes, I like to hang out when my out of town friends are in town. Yes, I’ll go to mixers or whatever, but let’s be clear. I’m a mother. All that partying hoo-ha is just not my bag anymore. I have a little person future to prepare for and that future certainly ain’t being maintained in somebody’s bar or club.
This, I suppose is where married life makes sense, though considering that I’ve never been married– I could be utterly off the mark here. I see having a legally committed significant other as a once in a lifetime opportunity to never have to look for a date (who owns a tux) to the Grammy’s or my parent’s formals. With a husband, I’ll never never again have to go a day or a week or a year being horny. Presto! There he is, bound and gagged on his side of the bed. Want to go out and be frisky with my girls? With a husband, I can still do that. All I have to do is throw on my freak-em dress and I’m practically guaranteed a great night’s sleep when I get home. Having a rough mortgage month? That’s why God invented husbands. Want more kids? No need to peruse the sperm bank (or seduce my ex). Presto! I have a once walking sperm bank bound and gagged on my side of the bed. *sigh* Of course, I also hear with a husband in the picture, there is also a whole other human being involved who wants to be heard, loved, cherished, understood and what not–we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it, won’t we?
Besides the whole relationship aspect of the having a husband deal, it seems to me that having a husband would solve all of my single woman issues. I would love to try one out and see if it works for my unique lifestyle. Except that contrary to what my mother seems to believe, I can’t just walk into any Wal-mart or Target and pick one up on sale. There’s an actual process to this whole finding a man worthy of warranting a life long commitment to. Clearly, wanting to bed a guy is far easier than actually wanting to see him again the next day (or so I’m told).
Therein lies my perpetual dilemma. How does a chronic sexy single transition her life to “Sadie, Sadie married lady”? I would create a website that accepts applications, but who has time to look through them all? I can only hope that one day Wal-mart and Target– and maybe Neiman’s will fill a definite need and begin to offer husbands in their wares for sale. Some countries have mail-order brides. Why not mail-order husbands too? Just a thought.
The moral of this story? No clue. Just some food for thought. Thank you for reading this though. Peace and abundant “I’m so sick of being single” blessings! -e-