I can do ugly all by myself

I'm not single because I have no options, I'm single because I exercise my options. It's not about settling because we all do settle, striking a balance between what we put up with to have the things we don't want to live without. It's about not feeling that I have to give a guy my number just because he asked. The things I don't have, especially THE thing, because I'm not in a relationship are wants, not needs and it passes like food cravings. Kissy face man is irritating me. Why can't that adorable guy at work just ask me out? I am so over the internet.

Moving on...

If I'm ever to write consistently again, I'm going to have to invest in some earplugs. There is no privacy in this house because of the loft style which means every activity is a group activity. If someone is watching TV, we're all at least hearing the TV. It's not an ideal situation for writing. I have something in my head and then I hear the real sad women of New Jersey, Atlanta, wherever and I'm sucked in, not because I want anything to do with the shows but because they are on and they are living breathing train wrecks. You can't not look. I have epiphanies while watching these shows because I know vapid people like those women in real life and it makes me grateful my closest friends are normal.

The door just clicked closed and I am SO grateful to be alone. Being with my sister these last six months (so much for 6 weeks) has been more good than bad. But I really miss my alone time, my deep thoughts time, my couch, my sometimes neat second bedroom. I've been thinking about my 40th birthday-I think it's close enough to begin considering. I think even the people who think I'm as awesome as they come don't really see me married. I don't see me married either. I don't see me with a significant other. I've never been that person and I don't think people really change all that much. But I do want a party that everyone feels obligated to try to come to, I want to feel loved and celebrated, and I want to dance and be merry. So this weekend I entertained the notion of throwing myself a wedding-themed birthday party for my 40th. Not a sad affair, not an event where everyone wonders aloud why I'm single. On any given day, how many of them are happy? Sometimes I wonder if couples don't look so good in public because they feel so good they aren't alone.

Anyway, I know myself well enough to know the 40th birthday bash will never happen. I will probably try to go to work if it falls on a workday or not go to work if I suspect an obligatory office acknowledgement of the day to avoid the despair of 'celebrating' my 40th with people who barely know me. It will all be too much to try to really send it up because nothing is ever enough really when you have an imagination like mine that dreams big and lives small simply to avoid mediocre.

I'm a little all over the map tonight. I feel furtive in my writing because any moment the key will turn in the lock, Baloo and Ashley will burst back on scene, and this gift is done. Already my head is heavy with fatigue but I type on because later it will be even harder. I really miss my space even though I know I will eventually miss her. I'll have to get used to living alone again and I know I will come to this space with a heavy lonely heart. Sometimes there's just no pleasing me.