Every Sunday is getting more bleak…

Anti-production.  That’s the motto of the day.  Actually, I’ve already gotten a few necessary things around the house done but I didn’t even make a dent in the long, long list.  I’m done for now on account of being in a gloomy mood.  Holidays tend to bring out the melancholy when I’m not near my family.  Considering I have Hoozier’s “Take Me to Church” on repeat, and met with some truths that discourage me, I think I should just be honest and admit that it’s the single woman blues. The SWB (kinda sounds like a new reality show).  I mean, it can manifest a million different actions and I can make excuses, distractions, and credit card charges but real talk is that I’m bummed.  And romance, or rather, lack thereof is the root of it.

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin…

My two BFFs say they are living vicariously through me.  They see single life as no one to share with, no one around when you want peace and quiet.  An endless party where you get to go out whenever you want; living carefree with little responsibility.  Ain’t no compromises about what to eat, where to go, how to get there, who is paying which bill, putting whatever shower curtain and bedspread you want up (in whatever girlie color you desire), sleeping wherever in the bed you want [bullshit btw Chloe gets her half, I get mine. That’s her rules] full-time control of the remote for the tv and the car is always on whatever tune you like.  Not having to go out with people you really don’t want to see cause they’re your love’s friends not so much yours [and feigning interest in what they have been doing].  The only annoying personal habits are your own [Flick that booger! Fart whenever and wherever you want cause ain’t nobody gonna care!!]  Hey, a lot of that is true.  If that’s how they see it, well, I guess I can’t contradict much of that.  On those counts, it’s a sweet deal.

I’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife…

Furthermore, I have no one’s issues or problems to deal with.  And that’s a big one there.  Cause when you’re emotionally connected to someone, as time passes, suddenly your lives start weaving into one where once there were two.  And that’s where I envy them. And I don’t think many people get that.  Which is a little weird isn’t it?  Sure I want laughter, smiles, hugs and kisses in abundance.  But I like the quirks you discover in people as you get to know them.  It could be the way they whistle, a body tic, their catch phrase they overuse, a book they keep with every intent to read but they’ve had for 8 years, the way they hold a wine glass. The more time you spend with someone–if it’s an authentic connection–you start to learn all the pains being alive has inflicted on them.  The deeper you grow together, the darker it gets.  I think to fall in love with someone–the real deal–you got to open yourself up with full honesty and they do too.

Offer me that deathless death, good God let me give you my life…

And that’s where the complications begin. Now they know all this stuff about you!  The real stuff.  And vice versa.  I’ve been known to bail once the sugar coating comes off people.  Sometimes I regret my exit, sometimes it saved my damn life!  Every single time was exactly what I needed.  Everybody showed me something about myself–things to change, things I didn’t even know.  More importantly, it gave me great insight to what I want and what I will or will not tolerate.  So I’m grateful.  Lord, I AM grateful.  But dammit here I sit–a beautiful little human with flaws and comfortable in my own skin–and zero connection to another human.

The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you…

It’s frustrating to be at a point where I am willing to accept someone just as they are and there’s no one there.  It cuts deep.  By default I wonder “wtf is wrong with me?”  Well, nothing.  I am me: impatient and low maintenance [and I’m told blessed/cursed with a streak of independence and refusal to settle for less than desirable]. This is how I was made and what I became. This week I met a guy who told me I asked weird questions.  I cannot even remember what the conversation was.  Yeah, I guess I probably do ask odd things for a girl in heels and sexy shirts.  I’m not looking for a booty call, a good time, or whatever the term is at present [remember that one time the company president named one of our corporations and we referred to it by its initials “DTF” all day everyday? I still giggle].  But if I like you, I want to know YOU.  Oh “the game” is such a fucked up little maze.  And I’m such a bad playa.  Probably because I’m not one.  And I am figuring out–now that I’ve stepped back out there–you got to do a lot of wasted searching to find that person who has the quirks you find adorable and who is open to getting beyond the facade.  [I feel the hashtag #thestruggleisreal is necessary cause it makes me laugh]

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene; only then I am human, only then I am clean.  Amen. Amen. Amen.