I’ve actually written several things…one post half-finished called Love Exists, one about that online dating website I joined and then un-joined, another about soul mates, another called What is Love and let’s just wrap them all up into one category and say I’ve been writing a hundred skrillion posts about love and relationships and MY FEELINGS and and we’ll refer to them all as I WILL BE ALONE FOREVER.  Which most of the time I don’t think is true but a lot of the time feels like it is because (insert sorry feelings for myself here – who gives a shit).

Here’s a fun fact.  I’ve never actually “dated”, rather I’ve just gone easily into one relationship after another.  I’ve not been single since I was 20 and before that I was just confused about WHAT’S A GAY AND WHY DO I HAVE IT?  and nothing else mattered.  So this last year has been the longest stretch of time in over 13 years where I have not had a significant other.  While it has been so good in many respects, especially as far as learning who I am in some incredibly important ways as well as what I need and/or want in a future partner, it has also been really difficult because I am at my very best when I am not alone.  For a while I thought that was a problem…that I should be my absolute best self all the time, especially when I am alone, but it just doesn’t work out that way because I do not do well when I have only myself to make fun of worry about. I’m a lover…it is what I do and I do it very well and IF THAT MADE YOU THROW UP ALL OVER YOURSELF THEN I’M SORRY.  Email me your dry-cleaning bill.

Janie and I were discussing the notion of “dating” this weekend and how we are terrible at it and confused by it and how we do not understand some certain things, like how people just disappear when they’ve decided they’re over you, or how people who say they hate playing games do nothing but play games and remember that one date I had that lasted one hour and afterward we didn’t even say goodbye we just walked away in opposite directions never to speak to one another again? What the hell?  This is, in part, why I found myself sobbing in the bathroom of an Indian restaurant last weekend at a family dinner.  Sometimes it just feels incredibly lonely, and you can be surrounded by the people you love the most in the world and they can do and say everything right and yet they cannot take away that giant hole in your heart that only a certain kind of love, of intimacy and connection, can fill.  And so there I sat among my parents and siblings and their complete little families and I had never felt so alone and I could not control the tears that poured from my eyeballs.  After I stopped crying long enough to make it out of the bathroom I slipped outside and texted Leah and called Carrie and, a little later, talked to my mom and then went back inside to awkwardly face everyone and pretend like EVERYTHING! IS! OKAY!  And, really, it absolutely is. I have a great faith in love and that somehow, some way, some day…I will find my other half.

Anyway, I sort of lost my point in all that.  I really just wanted to come here to say that I’m still here…around…behind the scenes trying to get my shit together, but I feel a little stuck.  I’m creatively frustrated and the other day Janie told me she read some numerology thing and it said that people of my number are prone to creative blockages and I’m just crazy enough to buy that because FUCK THIS SHIT,  I cannot write a thing these days without reading back over it and thinking I should throw the fucking computer right out into the street because CLEARLY THAT’S THE PROBLEM.  Clearly.  I mean, my god.

In closing, I just wanted to mention that my sister had a baby yesterday.  It was pretty awesome and she came right out of the delivery room looking like a million fucking bucks.  I mean, Jesus Christ, lady…the least you could do is look awful after giving birth to let your little sister feel good about herself for once, BUT NO.  It is physically impossible for her to ever look bad.  I swear to you, the only difference between pre and post birth was that her ponytail was askew.  BULLSHIT.  I can’t even manage to look any better than the homeless woman who keeps accosting me on the street corner, begging me to buy her sanitary pads and a latte, and here Jennifer is, giving birth and being wheeled around with this gorgeous little boy like she’s ready for her Baby GAP photo shoot.  Of course, you know, it isn’t ALWAYS ABOUT ME (yes it is) so what I really should say, in all honesty and sincerity, is that my sister and brother-in-law now have an amazing son that I know is already loved beyond all belief.  It’s a bit surreal but still absolutely a beautiful thing.  I’m incredibly lucky to have two of the best nephews in the world, both of whom I will spoil like crazy to ensure that I have someone to take good care of me when I am old and crazy.

Let’s all pray I get my so-called creative juices flowing again soon before I toss myself in front of a bus out of boredom.

Amen.

Anyhow, I wished her farewell on her final status update and I’ve posted it below because you all need to know what I’ll be missing out on.  And what you have been missing out on for years because you haven’t friended me on Facebook yet.  Why?  I am hilarious.  You should.  I have references.  Carrie is/was one.  See below.

Also, Janie is spending three days cat-sitting and I’m left to my own devices here in the condo.  I think we all remember what happened the last two times I was left alone.  I became the Homeowner’s Association VP (and they refuse to vote me out even when I steal all our money to buy cocaine and hookers) and then there was that one time I burned off part of my eyebrow.  My point is, it will be a miracle if I don’t burn this place down totally on purpose because PLEASE SOMEONE BUY THIS CONDO SO WE CAN MOVE ON WITH OUR LIVES.

I was chatting with my mom and sister this weekend about how interesting it will be to live alone again, because I cannot be trusted to not do something stupid.  My mother said she was looking forward to retiring so she and my dad can check in on me regularly and make sure I’m still alive and not very badly high on PCP and making birth control pills out of cat food that I will sell on eBay to unsuspecting teenage girls.  Then my sister suggested I might be the first 34 year old who has to move into assisted living because she needs round the clock supervision.  Then I suggested I could just hire myself a nanny and since they get cheaper with age, I’ll practically have to pay nothing at all but my dignity.  This, I believe, is called marriage.

So, here is one tidbit…

Over there on the sidebar where I post photos every once and again you will see that I have added a photo of my sister and soon to be nephew. He’s in there. I’ve seen the photos! So that’s pretty cool because babies are awesome and I like being an aunt. One day, years from now, maybe I’ll be a mom.  When I cried to my brother and sister over email that I was feeling left out and that it was likely I’d need to go steal a baby so I’d fit in, my brother told me not to worry, that I wasn’t alone and then he sent me this picture of Tila Tequila:

It’s really nice to have a family that’s so supportive of me during my darkest hours.

]]> http://uncouthheathen.com/2010/11/17/very-briefly/feed/ 0 http://uncouthheathen.com/2010/11/16/nephew-in-there/ http://uncouthheathen.com/2010/11/16/nephew-in-there/#comments Tue, 16 Nov 2010 23:19:13 +0000 heathen http://uncouthheathen.com/?p=4685

My lovely sister is having a baby boy in March!  YAY!

And, oh my god, you guys I just can’t talk about my cat’s constipation problem with you.  I have typed up five paragraphs about it and it took me that long to realize it was a really long story about a cat who won’t shit.  I do not want to be one of those people.  So to keep it short and to the point, we spent $500 getting Ducati a diagnosis of constipation and after an enema at the vet he wouldn’t poop but then he did when we got home but then it wasn’t enough but then when we brought him back they said he was “empty” and then the question was “where is the rest of the poop?”  and then we thought that the dog probably ate it like it was one of those failed NASA recycled poop cookies.  Anyhow, I would have preferred to use that money to buy two new living room chairs that were on sale at Kasala, a furniture store that I’ve never been to but for which I saw an advertisement with some cool leather chairs on sale for $199 a piece.  Instead, I got cat x-rays and a cat enema and some shit my dog ate.

In other news, this Thanksgiving we’re going to my sister’s house, which has torn from my clutches one of the “100 Things” I’d like to accomplish this year – hosting this particular holiday.  No one even asked me if it was okay, I was just told that she was having it.  Then I thought – I’ll just have my own.  We can compete for guests.    That’ll show her!  But then she invited people from work, including her boss, and I thought, oh I can’t miss that.  I can’t miss an opportunity to humiliate my family in front of new people. I think she wants to make up for the last time she hosted when she made that whole wheat apple pie.  Seriously.  WHOLE WHEAT apple pie.  This will not happen again.  I fact, I’m bringing my own pie, just in case.  YOU DO NOT FUCK WITH PIE!  This is like…holiday rule number 3.  The first two are YOU DO NOT FUCK WITH PRESENTS and  SOMEONE WILL ALWAYS CRY, PROBABLY ME (because of all the feelings).

Last week I mentioned that the cable company finally shut off the cable they swore they shut off two years ago, so we’ve been forced to do things like “read” and “talk.”  Janie decided we were going to spend several minutes before going to bed reading a book together called Mindful Couples.  This is not to say we’re  in any sort of  relationship turmoil.  Or we weren’t until Janie started reading the part of the book that talks about “when your wife acts like a bitch.”  And you know what? Janie lies.  That’s not in the book at all.  Especially not near the part of the book that talks about how “Janie is a doody.”  Haha, Janie.  TAKE THAT.  So we got to page 3 before we stopped to spend an hour discussing what we find most frustrating about one another, like how Janie is defensive about everything I ever say, even if I’m just saying thank you for cleaning the kitchen and she yells at me, “ARE YOU SAYING I AM BAD IN BED?” and how I disregard all the words coming out of her mouth all the time, especially when they’re wrong, which is always.

We had a really good conversation and I realized that a large part of what makes our relationship so terrible awesome is that we end almost every talk or fistfight heated discussion with laughter.  Someone calls someone a dirty whore and we laugh and laugh and laugh until Gus gets so excited about all the laughter that he jumps up on us and accidentally slips Janie the tongue.  And you probably think I’m exaggerating and unless you are my mom, I want to tell you that this is actually very true.  (Confidential to my mother:  It’s not true.  We end every fight or discussion with “I love you” and a healthy snack, usually carrots or an apple.)  One day, many years from now when we have raised the children I am incapable of conceiving and they become incapable of conceiving children of their own, Janie and I will be in a retirement community and our elderly neighbors will be shocked and horrified as we end each night calling one another offensive names and laugh until our teeth fall out.