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Wednesday, September 12, 2012

It was the best of times...

There is a quote, attributed to Marilyn Monroe, that goes something like this:
"If you can't handle me at my worst, then you don't deserve me at my best."

I stumbled upon this quote on the ol' online dating site last night. One of the guys had posted it as his thought for the day. I thought it was ironic because of what I had posted earlier.

"I'm always there for the bad times, waiting for the good times. Yet when the good times arrive, there's always someone else to share them with."

You see, that's kind of the opposite of the Marilyn Monroe quote. In fact, I'm going to call bullshit on Marilyn Monroe.

I am going to blame my weight and/or my kind nature, but I always seem to be attracted to guys with damage. And I patiently wait for them to work out their issues so that we can get on with the good times. As they share their sob-stories and temper tantrums, I remind them that I am there with them during the bad times because it will make the good times so much better.

And then the good times come. They get a new job. They buy a house. They even get a pet dog. And then they find another lady friend (usually, in my case, their ex) to share it all with.

Just once, I'd like to share the good times with someone. I'd like to be good enough for the good times. I'd like to put up with all the bullshit about ex-wives, unemployment, cars getting repossessed, etc. and still be there when life was back on track. Instead, it's the chick that caused all the issues in the first place who gets the good times. How's that fair?

Now don't get me wrong, I have watched the karma bus not only hit people, but back up and spin its tires on people, lately. But maybe it's the fact that I'm not getting happiness and self-fulfillment from that. Maybe that's what made me realize I want to be there for the new dogs and new jobs and happily ever after.

Let's not tell Gloria Steinem, but I think there are days that I'd love nothing more than to be waiting in the kitchen in an apron with children and puppies lapping at my ankles, holding a pipe and the afternoon newspaper. (Yes, I realize that scene is so June Cleaver that afternoon papers don't even exist anymore.) For my entire life, I've been bamboozled by the feminine mystique. I have worked my ass off to be successful professionally. In fact, my boss just told me today that I am doing my best work ever. That is validating. I bought my own house this year. I did it all by myself. I have a nice car. Maybe the puppy is next.

I can do everything on my own, and I'm doing it quite well. But it's clear that while I was making my own life that I've missed out on sharing it with someone else. The dream of being a parent is fading fast. The dream of having a partner who is my equal intellectually, professionally and socially has been gone for a while.

Sometimes I wonder if the women of my generation will look back and have serious regrets. I'm not at that point yet. In some ways, I am perfectly fulfilled. And this is a life I made for myself. Rather than settle with a spouse that isn't exactly what I want (and believe me the opportunity exists), I have chosen to be single. And, if I really wanted to, I could have a child without a spouse.

Maybe what I'm doing is creating the new American dream. However, there are plenty of days that I'd rather not climb in a big, empty bed by myself, and I'd give my left arm just to have someone meet me at the door with a glass of wine and ask me how my day went for a change.

I've listened to a lot of sob stories over the years. I feel like I've earned it.

1 comment(s):

You have earned it just wish there were a great guy who could realize that.

By Blogger Rosalie, at 10/05/2012 9:33 AM  

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