No, Please Don't Give Me A Relationship!!
Why do most new conversations seem to wind down to a roundabout interrogation of my hook up situation? I've worked very hard to advertise my social independence and parade my long-term need for alone time in the woods. I thought I'd done an adequate job, but I may have just made myself look like a serial killer. I feel like I should start this over. There are plenty of reasons I'm not remotely interested in settling down with a significant other. And it has nothing to do with fear, or even who the person may be.
I like sleeping alone. It's more comfortable. I have never enjoyed cuddling while trying to lie on a flat surface. There's usually a giant arm stretched out under my neck, and it's very solid. There are bones in those things, and this seems to jack up my neck until my spine is curled over my voice box somehow. I've been clocked in the face with an elbow during a wonderful dream, knowing full well that pitching a fit over it is a waste of air. He was fast asleep and had no idea. I know most men don't intentionally shove their arms into a girl's eye in the middle of the night, and his guilt about it crows loudly the next day when he witnesses his handiwork. He's feeling worse than I am now, and I suddenly find myself consoling him and taking time away from my own ice pack.
I've had to go on "food break ups", and I absolutely hate meal planning. People's bodies vary. Some of us need dairy, some of us get sick from it. The last serious relationship I had required one of these food break ups. He would gain weight faster than a freight train, and it took a lot of dairy to keep any weight on me at all. When he finally decided to lose weight, he wanted me to go on a raw vegan diet with him. He looked great. I, however, completely lost my breasts. Never again. I rather enjoy having breasts. I've also never felt comfortable making a meal and eating in front of anyone without offering to include them in my dinner plans. If someone's in my space day and night, I can no longer just go shove various things into my mouth when I find myself hungry. I'm feeling the pressure of planning a meal, now. And people living in the real world seem to expect meals at certain times of day, which completely contradicts how I operate on a habitual basis. I don't engage in breakfast, lunch and dinner when it's "time". I'm usually too focused on something weird to even remember eating until my stomach starts it's third cycle of grumbling. Then I look up and notice it got dark. What time is it? It's time to go shove a quick sandwich down my throat and keep painting this tree branch. It must be finished before 9pm... earlier today, I'd decided to polyurethane a tree.
I absolutely love my alone time. I don't want to wake up to a person in my bed every morning. Maybe on occasion, but every day? It has nothing to do with the person. I may love and adore this person beyond the moon, but that somehow doesn't translate in my brain to sharing my most personal morning routines. I don't like exercising in front of people, and I have a serious beauty regimen. I don't want to stress over how long it takes to accomplish things men know little about in the bathroom.
I have a low sex drive. A lot of females don't crank out gallons of testosterone every day. This makes nature unfair, as any female sporting the adequate amount of testosterone needed to satisfy her man also comes with a lot of facial hair and a bit of an attitude. So anytime I've been involved in a serious relationship, I've had to make sure I periodically put out often enough to keep him from thinking I don't find him attractive anymore. This takes careful scheduling, and is emotionally high maintenance. It's as bad as constantly consoling a girlfriend with an illogical fear of weight gain and bread. And when I feel obligated as opposed to aroused, it doesn't end up going very well. He knows something's off, I know I'd rather be skinning a raccoon, and our sex life begins its detrimental slope towards boredom and an early death. There are after-sex duties; you can't really skip out on the emotional assurance when you're done. You've got to spend at least a good ten minutes with that head cocked awkwardly on his arm again.
I've always gotten all I require from good friends and family; attention, emotional bonding, protection, recreation- it's split between many. I don't see how I can receive everything I need from one chosen person for the rest of my life. Frankly, I think that's quite an unfair responsibility for the poor guy who finds himself contractually assigned to keep me turned on until one of us dies. And the only thing that seems to be different in a romantic relationship as opposed to a closely bonded friend is the romance itself. Romance is not a hard thing to find when you're a woman. It's not like I have two heads. And if I did have two heads? I'll bet there'd be some guy curious enough to want to try that out...
So what is this bizarre idea that we should all be grovelling towards the goal of finding completion in another human being? I have many loves in this life. They're in the form of deep conversations with someone I met on my random bus trip across the state. They come through the glow of faces around me while standing in line for a chilly autumn ferris wheel ride. One lives in the reflection of raindrops sliding down my window as old delta blues play on my radio. My loves are everywhere. I'm easily entertained, captivated, and turned on by life itself. And you know the funny thing about that? When one day you find yourself genuinely loving your life, romance will just seem to constantly follow you. You'll never be alone.
I like sleeping alone. It's more comfortable. I have never enjoyed cuddling while trying to lie on a flat surface. There's usually a giant arm stretched out under my neck, and it's very solid. There are bones in those things, and this seems to jack up my neck until my spine is curled over my voice box somehow. I've been clocked in the face with an elbow during a wonderful dream, knowing full well that pitching a fit over it is a waste of air. He was fast asleep and had no idea. I know most men don't intentionally shove their arms into a girl's eye in the middle of the night, and his guilt about it crows loudly the next day when he witnesses his handiwork. He's feeling worse than I am now, and I suddenly find myself consoling him and taking time away from my own ice pack.
I've had to go on "food break ups", and I absolutely hate meal planning. People's bodies vary. Some of us need dairy, some of us get sick from it. The last serious relationship I had required one of these food break ups. He would gain weight faster than a freight train, and it took a lot of dairy to keep any weight on me at all. When he finally decided to lose weight, he wanted me to go on a raw vegan diet with him. He looked great. I, however, completely lost my breasts. Never again. I rather enjoy having breasts. I've also never felt comfortable making a meal and eating in front of anyone without offering to include them in my dinner plans. If someone's in my space day and night, I can no longer just go shove various things into my mouth when I find myself hungry. I'm feeling the pressure of planning a meal, now. And people living in the real world seem to expect meals at certain times of day, which completely contradicts how I operate on a habitual basis. I don't engage in breakfast, lunch and dinner when it's "time". I'm usually too focused on something weird to even remember eating until my stomach starts it's third cycle of grumbling. Then I look up and notice it got dark. What time is it? It's time to go shove a quick sandwich down my throat and keep painting this tree branch. It must be finished before 9pm... earlier today, I'd decided to polyurethane a tree.
I absolutely love my alone time. I don't want to wake up to a person in my bed every morning. Maybe on occasion, but every day? It has nothing to do with the person. I may love and adore this person beyond the moon, but that somehow doesn't translate in my brain to sharing my most personal morning routines. I don't like exercising in front of people, and I have a serious beauty regimen. I don't want to stress over how long it takes to accomplish things men know little about in the bathroom.
I have a low sex drive. A lot of females don't crank out gallons of testosterone every day. This makes nature unfair, as any female sporting the adequate amount of testosterone needed to satisfy her man also comes with a lot of facial hair and a bit of an attitude. So anytime I've been involved in a serious relationship, I've had to make sure I periodically put out often enough to keep him from thinking I don't find him attractive anymore. This takes careful scheduling, and is emotionally high maintenance. It's as bad as constantly consoling a girlfriend with an illogical fear of weight gain and bread. And when I feel obligated as opposed to aroused, it doesn't end up going very well. He knows something's off, I know I'd rather be skinning a raccoon, and our sex life begins its detrimental slope towards boredom and an early death. There are after-sex duties; you can't really skip out on the emotional assurance when you're done. You've got to spend at least a good ten minutes with that head cocked awkwardly on his arm again.
I've always gotten all I require from good friends and family; attention, emotional bonding, protection, recreation- it's split between many. I don't see how I can receive everything I need from one chosen person for the rest of my life. Frankly, I think that's quite an unfair responsibility for the poor guy who finds himself contractually assigned to keep me turned on until one of us dies. And the only thing that seems to be different in a romantic relationship as opposed to a closely bonded friend is the romance itself. Romance is not a hard thing to find when you're a woman. It's not like I have two heads. And if I did have two heads? I'll bet there'd be some guy curious enough to want to try that out...
So what is this bizarre idea that we should all be grovelling towards the goal of finding completion in another human being? I have many loves in this life. They're in the form of deep conversations with someone I met on my random bus trip across the state. They come through the glow of faces around me while standing in line for a chilly autumn ferris wheel ride. One lives in the reflection of raindrops sliding down my window as old delta blues play on my radio. My loves are everywhere. I'm easily entertained, captivated, and turned on by life itself. And you know the funny thing about that? When one day you find yourself genuinely loving your life, romance will just seem to constantly follow you. You'll never be alone.
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