Monday, October 17, 2011

I'm Becoming the Kind of Chic I Hate

I fear I am becoming the kind of chic I hate. We all have a bit of self hatred I suppose, but that’s not what I mean. I am referring to the kind of chic whose sheer existence revolves around a man. Or something. We picked it up from the 50s, it's not our fault. I was just married for so long that I’m lost now. It’s going on four years. No dates. *ooof* I won’t date. First of all, I haven’t met someone even remotely good looking enough to date. That makes me sound superficial, which I am not. I just don’t like anyone. The Albanian lady at the bank says, "you're too picky baby, you get married baby, then you won't be so angry baby." She’s older and married, and probably right.

On the other hand, I know girls that are not really that attractive, that have annoying personalities that seem to get guys easily.  I didn’t say they were sluts, but I was thinking it. I suppose guys pick up on my vibe that I’m difficult. Difficult translates into neurotic, demanding, creative, complicated, independent.  I’m alright as far as broads go, though. I don’t break balls with the guy I’m seeing. From what I remember. I don’t nag and I’m not clingy. I have my art; which is painting and standup..I have a lot of friends. So in the order of the universe, I should have attracted someone by now. This is pissing me off. I’m taking it personally. God is not bringing me someone and I’m fucking pissed about it. My neighbor, after 700 drinks, told me that I’m angry.

Then he told me he has a crush on me. Oh for fuck‘s sake. First, ew. Second, I’m not angry, I just express my anger freely. There’s a difference. Alright I’m lying. I’m angry, but if I had a man in my life I wouldn’t be angry. Hence the title of this blog. I’m turning into one of those women who isn’t anything until a man is in her life. Oh my GAAAhhhd. What am I going to do ? I know if I had a man, he would irritate the shit out of me unless I wait for the right one. Either way, I’ll be irritated whether I’m alone or not - that is, while I’m waiting for the dude. But see, that’s the whole Cinderella complex. I shouldn’t be waiting for anyone. I should be fulfilled and complete all on my own. I sort of am fulfilled, but I’m also sort of not. I’m both. My life is enriched by the work I do, when I get to work. But the rest of the time, kind of sucks. It’s just boring. I don’t remember being this listless ever in my life. Maybe I need to start painting again.

Acceptance is huge. If I could just accept where I’m at, and pay no mind to ugly annoying girls and what attention they are getting from guys that I wouldn’t be interested in anyway, maybe I will get back on track.