I’ve had crushes here and there since I was three years old. He was a friend of my dad’s and stepmom’s, probably someone from work (both were in the Navy at the time), and years later I ran across his image in the family photos and thought, Damn, I had good taste. It’s a good thing he wasn’t a 2020s man or he might have said I was leading him on by calling him my boyfriend. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with men anymore but it’s been cooking for a long damn time.
This isn’t the place for that rant.
But anyway, I started having relationships (or “relationships”) at fifteen, lost my virginity at seventeen, married at twenty-one (to those who thought otherwise: no, it was not shotgun. We just didn’t want to tell people until we could have an actual wedding, and then my pregnancy with Sean tanked those tentative plans), divorced at twenty-seven, met Entirely The Wrong Fucking Guy three more times in a row, and… thud. Here I be. Quite thoroughly fed up with it all.
I learned that for men, there are two kinds of women: the kind they want to fuck, and the kind they want to marry (or partner with). And then they cry that their sex lives ended at marriage and NEVER MAKE THE FUCKING CONNECTION. And they fancy themselves “more logical than” and “superior to” women. Superior at self-bullshitting, maybe. Certainly superior at sticking their dicks into really weird things and then winding up in the ER half the time. I dunno. None of this was my idea. I’m only observing and reporting.
Anyway, I was always the first kind of woman, never the second. Even Mike only wanted to get full BAQ (basic allowance for quarters) so he could live off-post. The fact we had fun in bed was just a bonus. Being that kind of woman is boring, and I like sex. I’m also jealous, y’know? I can tell when some guy’s not interested when all indications were that he was supposed to be, and is in fact holding out for a woman he likes much better. It pisses me off. I don’t like myself when I get into that situation. I would just as soon avoid it in the future.
Also, at this point, I look like a trainwreck with my clothes off, if trainwrecks had stretch marks and way too much body fat and tits that just about point at the floor. I wouldn’t fuck me, even if I were lesbian or bi, and I’m most decidedly not. So even if some guy were interested, the idea of getting nekkid with him would give me the screaming meemies. And as soon as we started, the reality would give him the screaming meemies. I’ve had enough disappointments in my love life, thank you very much.
On top of that, I joked for a long time that if a man’s name wasn’t Rory McCann, I was automatically not interested. Well, Rory’s married now. Fuck.
So. Will I try again? I honestly don’t know. I’m certainly not looking now. The very worst thing a woman can do for her personal and economic situation is Dating While Poor. But we do it, and men like it, because us needing money will mean we’re much more likely to put up with their bullshit and much less likely to walk away. I don’t want to ever trap myself like that again, and I can’t respect a man who would let it happen. So chalk it up to two things I respect about my ex-husband. Man’s amazing in bed and had a good head on his shoulders about my employment status: to wit, that I should always fucking have one. I wish I’d listened to him.
(ARE YOU HAPPY, FUCKER)
(no seriously, I hope you are. You’re a fuckup, but you have your good points too.)
No wait, three: He was fantastic with our son, too. My daughter’s dad was a useless fucking lump by comparison and didn’t even like playing with little kids. But anyway.
So you could say the answer right now is No, but if I get my shit sorted it will evolve to It Depends.
Problem is, speaking of Depends, I’m getting into the age cohort where men aren’t dating for sex or love anymore so much as auditioning for a fucking retirement nursemaid. I do not want to do that any more than I wanted to be anyone’s personal housekeeper when my kids were young. Dudes, if you can’t do for yourselves anymore, go check into a nursing home. At least those women get paid to wipe your ass, probably at a higher rate than Social Security. Enjoy. Leave me the fuck out of it.
I should probably get some cats, shouldn’t I.
Don’t threaten me with a good time.
[Last updated: 11 November 2023]
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