The other day I was just thinking. About life in general. And I realised many people are more concerned about me being a swinging single than I am. Ok, so I’m sure being in a domesticated cloud of bliss has it’s perks, but really. Leave. Me. Alone.
I detest it most when people tell me“Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure the right man will come along soon!”. First off, I doubt there’s such a thing as the right man. Every man will have his flaws. I think it’s how much of his quirks I can tolerate. Second, I’m not worrying at all if he’s on the way or not. Yay if he is, but I’ll still carry on with my life even if he doesn’t. I don’t need a man to complete me (though some passionate sex is always more than welcome hehe).
So I decided to tell all these
nosy concerned folks that my Mr. Right probably got hit by a truck on his way to meet me.
Which lead to the whole “Oh dear you’re such a pessimist/don’t worry good things are worth waiting for” crap. People! Do you not get me? Was I speaking a tribal language?!
I can’t win. It’s not that I’m some bra-burning feminist or something, but if things are to happen, they will. Even if I wanted to run I probably can’t so please please please let me be.
Worst are those who try to set me up with anybody who has a dick. Excuse me but I have my standards and I think you’re insulting me. Some are so bad (by my personal standards) that if there was only him and me left, and the world depended on us to procreate, then I’ll rather let the world end and cease all existence of life. Immediately.
This is not my first time discussing this issue here but these people are pushing me to the end of my tether. Soon, I’ll likely be introduced to anything that has a schlong. Like a dolphin or a horse or the old man next door.
It’s especially frustrating because I’m into a person but it’s not reciprocal. It’s been 10 days since we’ve had any contact but who’s counting.
So you see. I just want to be left alone unless you can bring the one I want to me. If you can’t, then just shut the fuck up, keep your potential candidates for someone less critical than me who will take any Peter, Anderson or Jimmy and go back into your smug coupledom.
Waitaminute. If you’re so contented with your life, where did you find the time to poke your noses into mine? I therefore conclude that you’re actually suffering and want to find another sacrificial lamb to accompany you to the abyss of relationship hell. Satans.