Underneath my yellow skin

The dating game

Let’s talk more about dating. I’ve been maundering about it in the past two posts, and I have more to say. I was listing the things I looked for in a partner. Let’s keep it going.

7. They have to be on the fringe. I’m a freak. I’ve been a freak all my life. I will be a freak for the rest of my life.

Side Note: My mom once exclaimed in frustration that just because something was traditional, it didn’t mean it was bad. Me being the pain in the ass that I can be immediately retorted, “It doesn’t mean it’s good, either.” Yes, I was being a smartass, but I was also stating my truth. I don’t dismiss tradition just because it’s tradition (any longer). I dismiss it because it doesn’t mean anything to me.

I know that it must pain my mother that I am the opposite of her in almost every way possible. I know she thinks it’s a rejection of her. She’s wrong…and she’s right. She’s wrong in that it was not a deliberate rejection of her.  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be her. It was more that I saw how she was and what effect it had on her life–and that was what I didn’t want. That might sound like a distinction without a difference, but it’s there.

I often talk about how I was in my early twenties when I realized that I didn’t want to have kids. I had been raised with the belief that not only was I going to have them, but that it was the most important thing I as a female-shaped person could do on this earth. This wasn’t just my family, by the way. It’s how society was back in the seventies/eighties/nineties (and sadly, still is to a great extent). There were jokes about going to college to get your MRS degree–but it wasn’t really a joke.


I never liked dolls. I never played mama with the dolls I did have, and I much preferred stuffed animals. I didn’t play mother with them, either, but at least they were cuddly. I hated baby dolls that sniveled, whined, and cried. I mean, I don’t even like it when my cat whines–and I adore him.

The minute I realized I didn’t have to have children was as if the heavens parted and a cascade of snow poured down upon me (my preferred state of weather). My heart lightened, and I had never felt such a moment of relief in my life. It’s the only decision I’ve made in my life that I’ve never regretted. I still don’t. It’s the best decision I’ve made in my life, bar none.

However, it’s marked me as a freak, indelibly. I spent a decade-and-a-half defending my decision from many women. And, yes, it was always women who wanted to make a big deal out of it. Guys didn’t care. In this particular case, it was women grimly holding up the patriarchy with all their might. Some of them were just incredulous that a woman could dare think of a different path. Those, I didn’t mind. It’s the one who got angry with me that I had a hard time dealing with.

I want to make it very clear that I never talked about it unless I was directly asked. I never brought up kids (why would I?), and I never spoke derogatorily about them. Side Note to the Side Note: I don’t like to call myself childless or childfree because that still puts a focus on children. They are not part of my life. At all. So why would I want that descriptor? It’s like calling myself pianofree or dogfree. Both are true, but not at all relevant to my life.

The women who got angry at me for saying I wasn’t going to have children were the ones who flummoxed me for the longest time. Why would me saying I wasn’t having children cause that extreme of a response? It wasn’t until a decade later or so that I realized why they got so upset/mad. It was because they felt forced to do the ‘right’ thing, the traditional thing, the thing that society dictated that they do. They were resentful about it, but instead of questioning the patriarchy, they turned their rage on me for daring to ignore it. It wasn’t just that I said no to this societal norm; I was sidestepping it completely. I was saying it didn’t matter–which it really didn’t!

Me not having children didn’t affect anyone other than me. But these women accused me of thinking they were stupid/wrong/bad for having kids. Which was not true. The brutal truth was that I. Did. Not. Give. A. Fuck. I didn’t give a good goddamn if they had kids or not because it did not affect me in the least! But the reverse apparently wasn’t true, and it was a traumatic time for me. I had hoped it would get better with time, but apparently, it’s still pretty bad.

8. They must accept the other people in my life who are very important to me.

I don’t think I can emphasize enough that I like my life the way it is. I’m not looking to shake it up in any major way. Anyone coming into it would be in addition to my life, not a substitute for what I already have.

9. They have to be comparable to my level of intelligence–not just brain-wise, but emotion-wise as well. I’m not asking for parity because i know that’s not possible on both fronts. Probably not even on one front. But if someone can not see where I’m coming from or even fathom that there’s another level to things than the one on which they operate, we are not going to get along.

I’m used to having to keep parts of myself to myself so that I don’t upset or confuse people. I don’t want to do that with someone I’m supposed to be in a partnership with. My last therapist once told me that I thought at a level well above most people so they literally couldn’t comprehend what I was saying. That went a long way to helping me with my frustration that I just wasn’t explaining things well enough.

The bottom line is that I am really happy on my own. Anyone who is added to the mix has to add substance to my life. Someone who will be a big positive with minimal negatives. Otherwise, why bother? I like my life as it is just fine.

 

 

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