Friday Night, Chez Spinster

Tonight I was wondering -- have I gone too far in the other direction? of not believing that I will ever find real love with someone right for me. I am thinking of myself in totally solitary terms, always. I am the opposite of the sort of woman who lives in the fairy tale land of romantic love. I don't do the wishing, hoping, dreaming, pining anymore. Instead, I think of myself as outside of the realm of romantic love for good. Maybe I am too far in the opposite direction...maybe I need to believe that someday... maybe...

Because what's almost worse than being alone, is losing the dream. Thinking that romantic love just doesn't apply to me anymore and never will again. That sex is a thing of the past. That being in love with my best friend is never going to enter into my life again. I've lost my faith in love.

How can I get that back? The hopefulness? The belief that I'm still lovable despite my string of failed relationships? That my future desirability isn't measured by my past lack of success? The inate believe that a beloved exists for me, and that I am someone's beloved to be.

I think that's why my approach to others around love and sex has become cynical, and disengaged. If you don't believe the real thing is in the offing, then it becomes easy to make compromises and settle for something in the moment that isn't what you really want, but seems like the only thing being offered anyway. Now, I'm not even doing that.

I have decided that nothing is better than the wrong thing (i.e. the wrong person). I have no desire to take what I can grab in the moment. I have no desire to have fast food when I want gourmet. Yea, they both stop the gnawing hunger, but one of them is really bad for you, and you usually regret it afterwards. I don't need fast food sex hangovers. I've done it, and it's done.

Now, I'm hanging out in limbo. No sex. No love. No relationships. And definitely, dear God, no dating. I'd rather get dental work than go on a date (except if T. was here, then, we'd go out and play some 'House of the Dead', and have a blast). But a date with some new guy who comes out of the ether, uh uh, no way Jose. Not when I can get my teeth cleaned with sharp instruments. Not when I have a sock drawer to organize. Not when I can trim my cuticles. Not when there are dishes to be done, and the cat litter needs scooping. Not when there are crusty bits of iam's in my kitty's bowl that need to be scraped out, and it needs to be scrubbed with the icky sponge that I reserve for cat feeding duties only. Nope, I'm wayyyy too busy for some liquor jockey who wants to see if they can get me drunk and get a mercy fuck out of me (whether they think they are doing me a favor, or whether they are using me to do themselves a favor). No thank you.

So, what does a swinging spinster do on a Friday night then?

She blogs about the sad state of her lack d'affairs d'amour. I know, it's a move that clearly lacks swank. I gotta get my mojo workin'.

I'm supposed to at least be having cosmos with Carrie, Miranda, et al.

Oh wait, I forgot, there is no "Sex & the Suburbs". Last night; case in point.

So, what's the suburban single swankster to do? Beats the heck outta me.