Hi diddle ee di, The single life for me.

So I've rewritten this.  The first draft, as it were, could be interpreted as just a laundry list of "excuses" by the more romantically-inclined individuals who believe that everyone has a soulmate.  The ones who either work for, or swear by, dating services and who think that nobody could possibly be happy without a Significant Other.  I just haven't met the right person yet!  Just you wait - someday it'll hit ya - Love'll getcha!, and we can say "We told you so!"  Ohhh, you're too young to be making declarations like that!

For the record, I'm 34.  Hardly too young to be making any declarations about myself.

If everyone has a soulmate, mine died centuries ago, or lives in a country that I have no interest in visiting.  Or worse, in a country that has a completely different language/culture than the one I'm accustomed to.  And I don't accommodate well.

Parts of this will continue being a laundry list, if only for the sake of dispelling any thoughts, in an organized manner, that everyone on the planet is meant to be coupled.  I suppose I could just end this now and say that I'll never be married because I don't want to be.  If that's all you want to read, stop now or be subjected to my long-winded rationalizations of everything about me (in which case, one could ask why you're visiting the site at all.  It's all about Me, after all, and I'm not a celebrity by any stretch of the imagination).  But if not, here we go.

aka Why this marriage thing really may not be for me.

• First, I don't disapprove of marriage in general.  I recognize that It's a Good Thing for many/most, and is a desired state of being, whether at present or "someday," for most adults.  In my case, though, the concept of marriage is so alien to me that I view married couples, or those engaged to be married, from the viewpoint of an anthropologist from another planet.  I can observe them, even study them (hopefully, without their knowing it), and fill out imaginary reports in the hopes I can someday piece it all together and understand what the appeal of it is.

Why, steady companionship, of course, most say.  Homecooked meals.  Somebody to open tight jars or carry the A/C unit from the basement.  Regular sex, or the promise of regular sex.  Somebody else who can run errands on weekends.  Whatever rocks your boat.

I cook my own meals, can open my own jars, just live without A/C, have no desire (at all) for sex, and... well, okay, somebody else being able to do errands would be good.  But I'm not walking down the aisle just for that.  No, I don't compensate for lack of companionship by doting on the cat.  I don't even speak to him, but do make cat noises, and only because I can sound exactly like a cat.  I'm a frustrated voice actor, okay?  I have to vent somehow.

But back to the alie-- I mean, married people.  I try to imagine what it'd be like to live with the same person 24/7, one who's not "just a roommate," but who actually sleeps in the same bed as I do, goes to the same places as I do for vacations (unless we're one of those Separate Vacations couples), shares a bank account, probably a last name, too, and I forget what else is involved.  Being a female type, I observe with great confusion the phenomenon of Changing the Last Name to His.  There's an awful lot of paperwork involved, I've noticed.  And coworkers are forced to memorize new email addresses and recognize new nameplates or office doors or whatever.  Then the ones who slip and use the old name get tsk-tsked (Good rule of thumb - NEVER "tsk tsk" me for that.  I'll never use your "new" name if you do).  I admit that I would consider - just consider - a name change if his is cooler than mine.  Something like Wolf, or Slaughter, or Savage, or Addams (that's with two d's.  Must be two!).  Not just "easier," as the reason some women have given.

I used to think about marriage.  I did!  I meant with me as a participant in one, not from my current stance of Alien Observer.  I even designed my future wedding ring for myself.  Just mentally.  I never went to a jeweler to start getting prices or anything.  I don't wear any jewelry, anyway. Give me power tools for gift-giving occasions, not body decorations.  But time went on, I spent more time living alone, and LOVING it, and I started wondering more and more what the hell I'd been thinking.

I have a few odd habits that have developed thanks to my fascination with (unscientifically, believe me!) studying married folks.  Don't be too frightened of me, now.  I haven't developed, nor have any plans to, an obsession with The Perfect Couple, insinuating myself into their lives, until it all ends up in some exciting car chase, especially one taking place in heavy rain, and ending with a huge explosion, most likely near or in an abandoned factory that you only find when in an exciting car chase.  Then I watch sadly as the explosion settles down.

• Unanimous Decisions.  I decide when and where to go on vacation, and make my own itinerary.  I decide which movies to see and when, and if I have too much to do that day, don't see them, just like that.  I'm the channel surfer, not He.  I can eat my bizarre food for breakfast and not worry about being mocked.  And so on.  I don't mind seeing movies or even plays at the The-ay-TUH by myself.  In fact, I prefer it.  Prefer it so much that this has caused minor friction with my local sister, who doesn't understand why I would not tell her ahead of time that I was getting season tickets to a local musical theatre.  Why on earth would I not include her??  Oh, woe!

Not because I don't like her.  Because I don't live with her, I had the brochure, I knew which shows I wanted to see, when, and in which seats, decisions made, done, money sent, and no coordination with somebody else's schedule or preferences.  So we're at an impasse.  She doesn't understand why I wouldn't automatically invite her; I don't understand why I'm expected to.

• I have not just come out of a bad relationship and am now venting.  I have not actually been in a relationship since...

Since...

Damn.  I was hoping there'd be no math.  Well, some time during college, I had an almost boyfriend, and by that I mean we did hold hands (eventually), went on dates, even cuddled at times, but never kissed.  The Line Crosser, in other words.  So no, I'm In My 30's And Have Never Been Kissed.  But back to the math.  I've been out of college since '89, but don't remember which year I was with the ABF.  So let's say, ballpark, 13-14 years since I've been in a long-term with a guy.  After that I tried a personal ad, but then panicked when I actually got replies, and so became physically unable to call more than maybe 2 back.  I'm not really a phone person, you see.  I also tried the so-called more reliable dating service approach, but that didn't work out, either.  I also couldn't get any of the staff to see that the fact that none of their spouses were met through dating services was something to be concerned about.  They're required to be chipper, enthusiastic, and optimistic, so people like me just shortcircuit their brains after long-term exposure.

The cynical, oversexed type, seeing that I'm approaching 2 decades of not being with anyone, might quip that I just need to get laid.  That'll fix me up.  Fixes everyone up.  Turns bitches into puppies again.  You start giggling again.  You high five everyone.  Life is good, cuz you JUST GOT LAID.  And don't knock it if you ain't tried it, honey.  When your cherry's popped, MMMM -MM! you just wait and see.

Okay.  Without getting into gory detail, and clarifying that I am NOT a transsexual (man to woman, that is), I lack certain very critical equipment for most/all women to experience any real sense of pleasure.  I was born this way.  Well, sort of; a well-meaning, but in retrospect, fucking ignorant, doctor was responsible for exacerbating my congenital problem.  Feel free to indulge in the double entendre you might make of "congenital."  Done?  Okay.  So unless butt-fucking is a great experience for women, which I've heard it is not, I'm S.O.L.  But that doesn't bother me in the end (no pun intended), since I don't have any desire either way.  Some have suggested that, clearly, oral is the way to go for me, then, which would be good advice if I didn't consider sucking on a dick to be the most disgusting thing a person could do to another.  Er, sexually, I mean.  Let's not start imagining horrible, violent acts or anything, now.  Everybody stay calm.

I've heard that oral is very popular with men, but that many women agree with me (to some extent, but probably stopping well short of the "most disgusting thing ever" part).  So some might suggest, delicately, "Tough.  Deal with it.  Suck it up.  HA HA HA HA HA HA, OH, I FUCKING KILL MYSELF, HA HA HA HA!"

Sure.  Be my guest.

• No, check your Gaydar's settings.  It's broken again.  I'll discuss this in more detail here, but when I say I don't have any desire either way, I mean either way.  Granted, I'm way too conservative to allow myself to indulge in girl-on-girl action even if I were a lesbian, so I propose that asexuality be accepted as a legitimate preference.  I know of hetero, homo, and bisexual tendencies, with the variations (and in some cases, deviations) in between, but no one talks about not caring one way or the other.  Oh, I recognize when a man is good-looking, and when a woman is, but I don't picture myself snogging or screwing any of them.

Tain't natural, though.  Everybody wants and needs somebody.  Human, alive, adult, and consenting, preferably.  Trouble is, I've pondered for many years what my "ideal man" would embody.  And to this day I'm always stumped when people ask me what I want.  I only know what I don't want, and dating experts hate that.  Too negative and all that.  Awww, think of the positive, honey!  I can and do.  I also see things from a sculptor's viewpoint, having done a lot of that.  You take something that is not your finished product, and make it into what is.  If chipping away at marble, you remove what does not look like your vision.  In using clay, my preferred medium, you shape it until it stops looking like clay and looks like what you want.

Of course one could infer that I'd be one of those horrible people who sees relationships as an opportunity to change the guy.  Remake him into my image.  Alas, I can neither confirm nor deny this.  I don't know if I would be that way or wouldn't.  I know that *I* hate being changed, so I might resist the temptaton to do the same to him.  I've been known to work that way before.  But I honestly don't know if I'd be a sculptor in a different medium than clay.

I once told a friend that the kind of guy(s) I'd be interested in dating would have to have seen every episode of Star Trek.  Alas, guys like that are found almost exclusively at Star Trek conventions.  The trouble is, I don't want to date a guy who would attend a Star Trek convention.  I've been to a few before.  Those people are no longer my people.

Speaking of Trek:  Space.  I need it.  One of the problems about living with someone is that s/he takes up space, too.  Really!  I had a hard time believing it, too, but it's true.  Not only that, I've heard they have possessions that also take up space.  Now the former I could accept, but both taking up my space?  Would this living together thing be in a mansion with at least two wings, then?  No?  Hm.  Mm.  Hm.  Pass.