If I were a man I’d be extremely content right now.
I’m about to negotiate the highest salary I’ve ever received. I live alone and take care of all my bills. I always know where I'm headed next and what plane tickets I need to purchase. I have an active social calendar and I catch a lot of shows/festivals. I could pack all my shit, move away tomorrow and not have to answer to anyone. I have the finances and freedom that certain men can only dream about.
It’s great—and if I had a penis I’d be fuckin’ set.
I wouldn't be watching the clock.
Instead I’m over here wallowing that my 33rd birthday is coming up in less than 2 months. I’ve never had such difficulty accepting a looming birthdate. Every time I get a moment to myself tears fucking run down my face.
Sure, I just described amazing things above—it’s a ton of fun and independence. I worked hard to get here and I count my blessings, but pieces are missing and the clock is ticking. I thought I was ok, I spoke a bit too soon.
I am so far away from 2 kids, a dog, a husband and a house. (Technically I already have a house, we can scratch that one off the list—just so I can feel slightly better.)
I’m not even dating. I’ve never had a boyfriend since being single. I can’t get past a 4th date.
Once in a while someone says something silly to me like they’re ready for me to relate. They’ll complain about how difficult it is to go to/from their man’s house when they don’t have all the shit they need.
I don’t know what that feels like.
I don’t know what a weekend day date feels like, the kind that bleeds into a sleep over and breakfast the next day. I don’t know what it feels like to have someone stop me from leaving so I just stick around longer, and longer, and longer. I don’t know what it feels like to go through the awkwardness of asking to have a photo taken together, regardless of whether I plan on posting it on IG or keeping it for my personal archives. I don’t remember what it’s like to hold someone’s hand while he’s driving a car. I forget what it’s like to come home and there’s someone to greet you with a kiss after a long ass day, maybe even with a hot meal waiting.
Stuff like that…
Bullshit like that…
Why don’t I know what any of that is like? Hasn’t it been an adequate amount of time already? It’s almost been 4 years. Haven’t I grown or been patient enough? Don’t I deserve it?
So what the fuck then?
I’m not comparing myself to anyone. I’m comparing my timing to what I always wanted. I’m late. I’m behind on schedule—well, according to me. In result I’m willing to compromise when it comes to my original dreams. I’ll settle… Remember? For Baby Daddy and a single mini-me cute as hell. We can scratch off husband. We can scratch off child no.2. Whatever it takes… I just want a little taste.
Then again maybe I’ll get everything I want and more. Maybe I’ll laugh about this post in 5 years.
Who knows? Let’s hope I reference this one a few years down the road and die from laughter.
