31 January 2011

Frustrated Velociraptor: I am woman, hear me GRAR!

Being a single female at 35 sucks sometimes.

Not in that Sex & the City "Oh me, oh my, will I ever land my guy?" way either. Actually I don't even want to think about S&C because the facile 4 tropes of women (with admittedly fabulous shoes) would just piss me off even more right now.

I look young for my age (thanks for the awesome genes, Ma). I have lost track of the times I have gotten the "Oh you'd better hurry up and find a man before you cant procreate any more" bullshit spew upon finding out that I am 35.

As if my uterus is the only reason for my existence and even that is worthless unless I procure my self a penis possessor to plow the field before the bloom of youth fades.

Fuck that noise. Fuck it right in the ear with a rusty chainsaw.

 *deep breath*

The grar was brought on today by a well meaning question from Shithead's Uncle; let's call him Trilussa. He was briefly incredulous that I "haven't found any one new."

Um, no. And I don't need to, either. I am happy with my life and I will continue to be so, independent of my relationship status.

Seriously: if you aren't happy on your own, what the fuck business do you have being in a relationship?

*deep breath*

I know Trilussa's intentions are well-meaning. Others just seem to open their damn mouths without thinking. In any case, maybe one of these days I'll find the perfect quip that doesn't come off as being a shrill, bitter ooga-booga feminist instead of making self-effacing jokes while smiling through gritted teeth.

For now, I'm going to work off some GRAR with a hefty dose of reverse objectification: I plan on giving myself a lovely case of carpal tunnel syndrome with pics of Marco Borriello.

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