I’d selected a writing prompt last night … I think I’ve mentioned that sometimes I like to let my brain work on a post while I sleep. But before I could noodle it around very much, it occurred to me that aside from a casual remark or two, it’s been a while since I blogged about my adventures in Lesbiland.
I was torn on what to write about, and figured it was best left to chance. So I thought of a number between one and ten and decided that if I didn’t guess the number I’d write about the wonderful world of lesbians; but if I did, I’d go with the topic I’d picked from 642 Things To Write About.
It wasn’t even close. I guessed 17 and the actual number was 2-3/16. The funny thing is that I was actually going to go say 2-3/16 because it’s my lucky number, but at the last second I thought that would be too easy, and went with 17 instead. So I guess what they say about going with your first instinct is probably true.
No ideas for a lesbian-specific post immediately came to mind, so I let it marinate overnight. But all I woke up with this morning was a sore back. Actually, not so much sore as stiff. I had to lay there and let it relax before I could get out of bed; because the first couple of times I tried, I kept making those sounds old people make when they hoist themselves out of a chair.
I wondered if the back pain was a sign that I should write about being a middle-age lesbian. But I didn’t want to make the women my age feel worse that they already do, nor do I want to scare the youngsters. I think it kinder to let the kids believe they’ll always look and feel as good as they do right now. Better they enjoy themselves and approach the future with hope. Pulling back the curtain to reveal what’s actually on the other side of the hill would be cruel and pointless.
People seem to like reading about relationships, but it’s been a while since I’ve been in one. And I’m fairly certain the statute of limitations has run out on tolerance for me dragging the ex-wife-same-sex-divorce dead horse out of the closet and beating it. And even if other people have a higher tolerance than I give them credit for, I do not.
I recently heard myself talking, and thought, “Oh no… not this again!” That’s when I realized I was standing on the brink of becoming one of “those people.” While I admire their ability to take any conversation and steer it into the never-ending saga of “My Divorce: Or How I Learned To Stop Being Interesting And Make Everything About Me Instead,” I don’t want to have that ability. I haven’t had any complaints yet, so I think I may still be in safe territory. But if I have crossed that line, I would hope anyone who cares about me would do an intervention before it’s too late.
I’m not currently dating anyone, nor am I actively trying to date anyone. I really need to get this bipolar thing under control before that’s even an option. Dating is hard … among other things you need to shave your legs, do stuff with your hair that involves more than a ponytail band, get dressed fairly regularly and answer the phone when it rings. That’s exhausting!
I hate to be judgmental, but I’d be a little suspicious of anyone who even wanted to date me right now. It’s not that I lack potential or that I’m not awesome, I just worry about ending up with someone who’s in the market for a fixer-upper. Those things rarely end well … either the fixer-uppee realizes the fixer-upper prefers life served with a big scoop of drama so she has something to focus on and fix; or, once the fixer-uppee becomes human and functional again, the fixer-upper accuses her of changing and “not being the same person you were when I met you.”
I didn’t really think about that sort of stuff when I was in my twenties. Because although everyone swears they don’t want any drama, the fact is we’re just more dramatic when we’re younger; and it’s very hard (and sort of boring) not to have any drama. I think most women become less drama-prone over time, which is why you don’t see many at clubs. Those places have three of the main components that when combined, are likely to result in drama — dancing, flirting and alcohol. You know you’re really over drama when you start actively avoiding places and situations where it’s likely to happen.
Either that, or you’ve moved in with a girlfriend and have stopped leaving the house almost entirely, because those are the rules. Unless it’s to go camping, hiking or to Home Depot … we can still go out for those things.
Provided we go with our girlfriend, of course.