Me. Men. And Why We Don't Mesh. Sort Of Anyhow.

My love life tends to be the number one topic in my circle of friends and household. Why is a woman who is nearly 40 still single? I make jokes that I'm waiting for Garrett Weber-Gale to realize he's helplessly, devotedly, and desparately in love with me.

I know. I KNOW! That's never going to happen. And, I know that. I just want people to stop asking what's wrong with ME and ask what's wrong the THE GUYS.

Or, maybe I'm just waiting for that whole "Bridget Jones' Diary" moment when Mark goes and buys her the new diary because she needed a fresh start. The whole "I'll-have-two-goregous-men-fight-over-me-if-I-keep-a-diary." thing. Believe you me. I've tried. It doesn't work. All that happens is you find yourself chin deep in ice cream, watching "Bridget Jones" for the millionth time, trying to figure out how SHE did it and wonder if you're even doing it right.

But, I've only told a couple people the true reason why I have avoided men. And, no. It's not because I'm gay (not that there's anything wrong with that. I've got 2 gay cousins) or I really think that Garrett Weber-Gale is in love with me. And, like I said. It has nothing to do with the whole diary thing because I've kept a diary since I could write and not a single guy has so much as thought of fighting another guy for my affection.

It's much deeper and I'm not sure if I really feel like sharing, but here goes anyhow. I guess.

Growing up, I was the tomboy. I mean, if there was a pick up game of anything, I was usually there. I wasn't ever afraid of getting dirty or mussing up my hair. While other girls would run in dread and fear when a boy stuck a frog in their faces, I was amused and tried to one-up the boy.

I was always outside, in the dirt and mud. I loved being dirty. Climbing trees? Check. Loved to climb trees, even in my Sunday best, much to the dismay of my parents. I was never one to think about what others would think of me. Never.

As I grew up, the boys always said that they wanted a girl they could take to the sporting events and not have to stop every second and explain what was going on. I was that girl, but I found myself always in the "Just Friends" catergory. Always. Without fail.

So, I stopped trying to be anything other than "that girl". You know. The one that never wore make up (or much of it) and jeans and tee shirts seemed to be the staple of her wardrobe.

Yeah. Attract guys like that. Kind of counterproductive.

As I grew up, I learned how to be a lot more feminine than I usually was. I wore a lot of skirts and dresses in high school, mixed in with my sneakers and jeans. I never wore a lot of make up and my hair wouldn't style like the other girls. I loved earrings, bracelets, and rings. Still do. Well, except for wearing dresses and skirts. I look ridiculous in them now.

Then, I entered the Navy. As if that wasn't a dream come true enough, I started dating a shipmate during "A" School.

He was gorgeous. Totally "chick flick" material. In more ways than his looks. He was charming and sweet and he always seemed to know what to say and when it needed to be said. He was smart and helped me, despite my apparent lack of brains. Yes. Oh, yes. He was a "chick flick" man come to life.

Until his fiancée showed up to base.

That's right. I said fiancée.

He was so sweet and charming and neglected to let me know he was already in a relationship.

D'OH!

When we talked about it (calmly, of course! It wouldn't be ladylike of me to yell and scream. Certainly nothing like a "chick flick" heroine.), he looked at me and calmly stated that I was the type of girl that would "make a man question the relationship he's in" on a deeper level so he could know if "it is the right relationship to be in."

In other words: I'll NEVER be the wife. I'll ALWAYS be the mistress. Never "The ONE", but the "OTHER ONE".

Swallow that extremely bitter pill when you're 22 years old.

So, fast forward five years. I've successfully avoided men's affections until I meet my ex-husband.

Like that shipmate, he was good looking and charming. Made me finally feel as though I was "The One".

And three months into our marriage, I found out I was STILL the "Other One."

So, I spent the next few years being the "Other One" (sometimes knowingly and other times, not knowingly) since I know I'll never really be "The One".

Even though I no longer play the role of the other woman, I can not break my mind set. Guys only look at me as though I was the one night stand. How can I believe a guy will look at me as "The One" when they never have and some still don't?

Maybe there are times being "Single and Unwanted" is a good thing. I don't have to worry about my man finding another woman.

But, there are times that it is a very lonely life.

More often than not.

But, that's my life: Lonely. Single. Unwanted.

Marisa. George. And Marriage.

I hear it almost all the time.

What's wrong with you? Why aren't you married with children yet? You're just too picky about men. Find one and settle down.

First of all, there's NOTHING wrong with me.

Second, I have NO idea why I'm not married with children yet. Well, except for the third point.

I'm not picky about men. Really. I know people may think I am, but the truth is, I settled once and I won't do it again. I'm not going to settle for Lancelot when it is Galahad I want. Why should I?

Ever since there was a society, women have always been the ones that have been asked why they weren't married. It is always the woman's fault that she's not married. And I have always wondered why.

Why isn't anyone looking at George Clooney, asking him those same questions. George, what's wrong with you? Find yourself a good woman and settle down and have some kids, for crying out loud!

It's okay with society if George Clooney says he's the "Ultimate Bachelor", but Marisa Tomei says (and I AM quoting here): I'm not that big a fan of marriage as an institution and I don't know why women need to have children to be seen as complete human beings. and she is being CRITICIZED! WTF?

Why is it okay for men to not be fans of marriage and kids, but not a woman?

I'm not saying that all women need to burn their bras and become men haters. I wish I was married with kids, but here is what it is: I'm pretty happy, despite some days. I have no one else to be responisble for, and being unemployed and feeling down a couple days out of every couple months , means, if I want to sleep all day, I can on those days.

I can come and go as I please and not check in with anyone (out of politeness).

I am a fan of marriage, but it is not necessary in my world. I am a completed painting. I'm just missing my frame.

I don't need a man to complete me. I need a man to compliment me.

And, apparently, there's something that society fears from that.

Me or Them?

In talking to my mom the other day, she told me a story about a "spinster" she went to church with as a young girl. The lady said (adn I realize I'm paraphrasing here) that she was walking through the woods (dating life) and throwing aside "crooked stick", (men being men) because she believed there was a "perfect stick" (Josh Groban. haahaa...not really. The ideal man), only to find that there was no "perfect stick". She indicated that I would throw men away because I always found fault with them.

She brought a guy up from years ago. "He was so enamoured by you, but you threw him to the side."

I bit my tongue. Why is it that I'm supposed to get involved with a guy because HE'S enamoured with me? Isn't it just as important for me to be enamoured by him?

So, after cooling off for a couple days (because it really bothered me), I sent her a text. I pretty much stated that I wasn't afraid of the shortcomings of the guys, but afraid that my shortcomings would scare them off.

Am I so perfect that I have no shortcomings? No.

I tend to think a lot of the times like the teen I wish I still was. I tend to overdramatize situations (though I'm learning to change this). I'm Irish, so hence, I have the Irish stubborness. I have the Swedish pride. I hate men thinking that I live only to serve them and I am unable to live with out having one in my life.

I do wish I was married and had kids, but the truth is that my parents did such a good job of raising me to be such an independant self-reliant woman, that it tends to scare men away. I would like to have a man, but I don't need one.

And, yes. There is a difference.

I am a perfectly compelte painting. I'm just waiting for my frame.

And I've started to give up hoping that he's out there.

The Dreaded Question.

I'm sure we Singletons have all heard it from time to time. Bridget Jones's Diary captures it best. The dreaded question: "How's your love life?"

Bridget Jones simply smiled through gritted teeth. Don't you wish sometimes you could just smile at the question? I know I do.

I'll admit. I hate being nearly 39 and single. It's not where I saw my life going, but it is where it is and there's precious little I can do about it.

I tried the whole Bridget Jones diary keeping, but that doesn't work. Apparently, keeping a diary to get guys only works in movies. If it didn't, I'd have guys coming out of the woodworks. See, I've kept a diary of some sort over the years. They've not all been labled with the very apparent DIARY across the front. Some are very simple spiral bound notebooks. And now, it's this fascinating template called THE INTERNET and the strange word of Blogging.

It seems like, even in the midst of this new era of dating, if you can't locate someone on line, you're doomed to a life of dreaded spinsterhood.

(Side question: Why are women Spinsters and men Bachelors? Aren't they really the same thing? Why is it more acceptable for a man to be my age and still single than it is for me to be my age and single?)

But, back to the dreaded question of How's your love life? I get asked this a lot. Or at least I used to. I have found that people don't know how to respond when I look them in the eye and tell them it's going great.

Then, there's the next dreaded question: When are YOU getting married? Again, people look stunned I tell them I'm getting married when Tim Tebow realizes that he's hopelessly, devotedly, and desparately in love with me.

Kind of ends the questioning right there since we all know what the next question is.

I don't know (or remember) where I heard (or saw) this, but there was a suggestion somewhere that when an older person asks you (at a wedding) when it's your turn, ask them at the next funeral you both attend, when it's their turn.

Again, a question killer.

But, here's the truth. I may not always enjoy being single. After all, I can't blame the husband or kids for the mess in the kitchen. I have to always pay the bills myself. I have no one to turn to when I need a good shoulder to cry on or to calm me when I have a nightmare.

In all that, I'm happy with my life. I'm sorry that not everyone can understand that. Do I wish I was married? Absolutely. But then, I couldn't go and do some of the things I get to go and do without checking in. Not that checking in is mandatory in a marriage. It's simply the nice thing to do.

But, I have a freedom that my married friends don't.

Then again, they have what I don't: Love.

But, fear not, Singletons, for we are overcoming. At least I hope so.