Now I Remember

Now I remember why I stopped writing. I don't have much of interest, even to me, going on anymore. I have a lot of barely suppressed annoyance and a lot of compromising on my part. I can keep things on a pretty even keel if I expect nothing and focus on living now. Every now and then I slip up, but not nearly as often as I used to. Unfortunately, none of this lends itself very well to writing anything even slightly compelling.

I could write about how I repeat 3 phrases all day, every day, and how much I'd give to never have to say, "Get your hair out of your mouth.", "Leave your penis alone." and "Stop teasing the dog." ever again. I could discuss how annoying it is to have most of the qualities I liked about a certain individual I live with disappear, seemingly daily. I can now understand why my Dad may have gotten stuck with my Mom. I never really believed him that she didn't eat like an animal when he met her, but, hey, there's karma kicking me in the ass, again, apparently in an attempt to get me to open my fucking mouth while I chew too. I'm no saint, not by a long shot, and I'm probably not all that easy to live with, but damn it, I've always been a picky eater, slob and bitch. I haven't increased my slack jawed TV viewing thousandfold though. Yeah, sure, I still refuse to close the bathroom door, but guess what? It's that "still" part that makes a difference. If, say, I started leaving it open within the last year or so, fine, bitch away, but there's never been any decent length of time where it was different.

Oooh, I know! I could talk about my sex life!

I don't have one.

Hmm, that didn't fill much space, did it? I could detail the failed attempts I've made to change that, including doing the fucking dishes every day, since dirty dishes apparently have a horrible adverse effect on libido. Oh, wait, nope, clean dishes don't change a thing. Hmmm, how about I try to be nicer? Nah, that doesn't work either. Oh, I know, how about we agree to go out and do our own thing and shut up about it? Nope. Just a no on that one. You'd think when a person refuses a marriage proposal, with the lack of adequate sex given as the reason, you'd either leave or try really hard to fix it. Not the case around these parts. Probably karma evening out all those fun years I once thoroughly enjoyed, several of them with the person I finally stopped taking back when I met Mr. No-Interest. Just as a note, if someone really sucks in the beginning, it's perfectly fucking fine to call it off, cuz chances are, it's not going to change. Better to feel shallow and rotten for a little while than to end up feeling that way for a long ass time.

Yeah, see, I've done a decent job of burying these things the past two years. I thought maybe it was because of that whole murdered love thing, and acceptance that life is not perfect, no one owes me shit, and nothing is going to compare to what I lost, but maybe it was just because I made myself stop thinking about it.

Maybe I should think about a job. Too bad that won't work. He works a different schedule every week and I don't have a babysitter, ever and I haven't worked in ten years, so I know better than to expect to find a job with "normal" daytime hours. *sigh*

This lovely piece brought to you, in part, by bitterness over waking up choking and unable to breathe combined with a lack of health insurance because I refused to marry someone whose dick doesn't live up to my standards. Sure, he could fill out some paperwork and hand it in at work and I'd get it for FREE, by the beginning of the next month, just like he and the kid do, but, really, why would you do that when it's more fun to passive aggressively remind me that I don't want to marry him? I already knew that, thanks, no need to remind me. Oh wait, then I guess it means I'm being punished for wanting a sex life. So be it.