It is sooo good to be home in my clean, cozy cottage, cuddled next to the woodstove. I’m writing off this year’s vacation as a total woftam. (that’s an aussie term-waste of f**king time and money)I’ve returned to discover that several people I know have gotten married. Some of them have tried it four or five times before, so they really ought to know better. First timers I can understand, especially those who are feeling that biological clock ticking. Gotta do it now, while I still can pump out some kids to pay child support to/be a single parent to later on in life.
Good luck to you all. Some things, like heroin, crack cocaine, and dinitrogen tetroxide, are best not messed with.
Just like I first wandered off alone in the woods at age four, freaking out my parents, ("why are you both so upset? I wasn’t lost. I knew the way, and just felt like going for a walk by myself."), I have found the reason why I can’t make a relationship work: At the end of the day, I prefer to go home to my own space that’s not cluttered up with any other bodies. This, more than anything else, is at the heart of the reason for all my relationships failing. ‘Cause at some point, as togetherness day in and day out becomes more important to the other person, I start to lose it. GO HOME, I think after a week or so. And when the realization hits that ohmygod he IS home, I start to go downhill. Go ahead, analyze me, tell me it’s a fear of intimacy, that I haven’t met mr. right, that couples are healthier than individuals, blah blah blah. Well, I met an absolutely wonderful guy a couple years back, and he didn’t go home either, so I had to leave him. As for intimacy, I love my friends and share everything with them, my brightest hopes ("I am going to win that lottery without buying a ticket!") my darkest secrets ("You wanna see my pre-cancerous growth?"), and everything I think and feel, ("Yes that shade of pink sucks on you.") as they do with me ("Kit, you need to get out more"). But at the end of the day, after sharing with friends, I just wanna go home, alone. I want sleep in the middle of my bed with no one to bother me. And first thing in the morning, while I’m struggling with the difficult task of getting my eyelids to stay propped open, the last thing I want to see or hear or deal with is someone in my face messing up my waking up process.
I love you. Now go away.
