The Mystique

I really need to go to the store to buy some christmas type things, but I really don't feel like it. I'm also short on extra time. I don't feel like fighting traffic, or spending money, or really doing much of anything that isn't part of my normal routine. I don't think I'm depressed. Most of the time I'm just fine. I go about my day, going to work, going to school, eating, drinking, sleeping, and so on. But then there's times like now, when it's late at night and I'm at home alone. Again. After a bunch of nights being home alone. My phone doesn't ring. My email is empty. And it's difficult to not be down and wish that my life was different. I wish I could break this curse of alone-ness that has been plaguing me since I realized what it was like to be alone. Fifteen years? 20? 30? It just seems too ridiculous that something like that could happen naturally. There have to be supernatural forces at work here to keep me miserable and alone. I've made as many changes and I can think of, and still nothing. I've even tried giving up on hope, but then it comes up and I can't stop it.

Tonight at 11:30 my doorbell rang. It scared the crap out of me. I had no idea who it could be, but suddenly I found myself hoping beyond hope that it would be some boy who wanted to do something romantic and surprise me or something stupid like that. And then it was my weird bird lady neighbor complaining about the power going out in her apartment, so I was roped into helping her. In my bathrobe, no less. Awesome. That couldn't get any more disappointing and sad. Except that not long after, I found myself hoping that an earthquake would hit just so I could think about something else. How fucked up is that?

So here I am again, late at night, alone again, imagining all the disappointment that is in my future. Not having a plus one for my festival parties, going to more weddings alone, never having anyone waiting for me when I get home, or cook me dinner, or spend holidays with me, or travel with, or anything. Always having to fend for myself and not be able to lean on anyone for help. People may think I'm too smart or too independent or whatever in order to want a man around, but the truth is, that's about the only thing I've ever really wanted, and just assumed it would never be this difficult to get. I just assumed I was like everyone else, where things would just develop organically and I wouldn't have to worry about it. And now my looks are going, and they weren't all that great to begin with. My eggs are drying up. And I still live below the poverty line, so I can't even attract a loser who wants to mooch off me before he goes to jail. How uplifting.

This is what feminism has done for me. I'm broke, lonely and hopeless. Thanks, Betty Friedan.