My Stupid Femininity

Last night after work my housemate and I went to Zam Zam's, and we started talking about dating. Each of us has been doing lots of it, but neither of us can find someone who seems like they're going to stick, though we've been trying to keep the best ones around as friends. My housemate's experience is, I think, typical for men: most of the women he dates eventually wind up wanting something serious and long-term. And though he likes — and is even attracted to — these women, knowing what they want and yet understanding that he'll never really fall for them makes him run the other way. Which, sometimes I wonder if men and women are suited to each other at all.

But that's not the real problem. The real problem is that some of us will never have a romantic partner, just as some of us will never win the lottery or find buried treasure or lose an eye. Yet so many people (my mother, for instance) believe the worst thing that could ever happen to a person is to never get married or find a long-term love. Unfortunately I was raised by her, and in her presence I can't help but feel pretty awful, unlucky, and loser-ish about not having stirred up feelings of romantic love and longing in another human being. But maybe if we could come to accept that love doesn't happen to and for everyone, if despite this we were able to keep busy and maintain lots of friendships, a life alone wouldn't seem so stark. I dunno.



I remember when I was maybe nine and kids at school would pick on me. My dad would always explain that they were just jealous. The thing was, I had a boy's haircut and too many freckles and I wore dumb frilly homemade dresses with matching underwear. I couldn't catch a baseball or ride a skateboard or think of anything clever and mean to say to the clever, mean kids. Jealous of me?! No chance! So during recess I hid out in a tractor tire and made up stories about my fantasy wedding, where someone would love me so much that I'd be able to live in the world without this constant awareness that I wasn't adequately demonstrating my own value. Because here was the horrible truth of it: if value was a purely subjective quality, and if I wasn't valued, there was always the possibility that I had no value in the first place. Not if I wasn't loved deeply by another.

What a mess!

Anyway, today I had my first improv class, and by the end of it I felt okay with being me. Mostly, anyway. The other students are nice people, and I remember almost everyone's name, and I laughed a lot, too.