Simply, Sally

Five days ago, I posted a private entry of the same name on my Livejournal so now I think its time to post this publicly and put this to rest.

I am a single woman; that does not mean I am available.

No, I am not available to be your Fuck Stop.

No, I am not available for your Mid-life Crisis.

No, this is not a challenge for you to get with me.

No, this is not a challenge for you to set me up.

No, I am not playing hard to get.

No, I am not some angry bitch queen.

No, I do not need to be “fixed” or “repaired.”

No, my vagina does not have an “open for business” sign on it.

I shouldn’t have to explain that I’m quite content being single and why I have never married. I was complete the day I was born, I don’t need a penis between my legs to be complete. I will not be measured by the male I am able to attract. I am more than my sex.

So stop. Just stop.

This is a lifestyle choice. My choice. I would rather be happy and single than with a man and miserable.

I really don’t have the right personality for being someone’s little wife. I am so much more fulfilled by the friends I make than any man I have ever been with.

Guys get their little Male-PMS thing going and all I want is to thrash them with a rolled up newspaper. I won’t stay quiet and let them take it out on me. I’m more likely to pelt them with eggs than walk on egg-shells. I’m more likely to walk out and let him stew in an empty house for the night. I’m more likely to divorce him and be done with it.

I’ve heard that verbal and emotional abuse after marriage is so common that some marriage counselors are telling their patients its normal. That is utter bull. But yet… I have heard woman after woman tell me that she got so she could tell by the way her husband drove, walked, or whatever coming up the street to their home what kind of an evening they were going to have. He seethes with an inexplicable and generic rage. And since he’d get his ass kicked if he did it in public… he’s about to take it out on his family. And she’s having to run interference to protect the kids from the wrath of his man-tantrum.

It’s a sad and darkly funny commentary in a way. We women will share stories and information regarding our families and our own health… right now to the color, volume, and consistency of the bodily fluids involved. But do we compare notes and kick his ass like he really needs? No. Most women stay quiet, try to ignore it, and hope it gets better. All the while feeling torn. They love him deeply but resent – just as deeply – the way they are being treated. Only when they feel like they’re going to explode do they come to a close friend to let it out. But should he be confronted he either minimizes it or acts remorseful just long enough…

I’m choosing to say no. I don’t want to deal with it. My heart and my ears are still open to my friends. But I’m not interested in bringing it into my own life.

Whew. Now that I have that off my chest. It’s not easy convincing people of my choice either.

I’ve had people come right out and demand to know if I’m a lesbian because somehow I’m nearly 30 and not married and haven’t squeezed out a few kids. I guess there’s some unwritten rule that women should get married, have 2.5 kids, and perform wifely duties or else there’s something wrong with them. I’ve literally had people damn near spittle-shrieking over my decision.

It’s crazy, but so many people find it inconceivable that I could think this way.

So, here comes the endless parade of people trying to set me up.

Here’s the wolves sniffing my crotch and howling at my door. It gets so old so fast when somehow me being nice, friendly, and approachable equates to “ZOMG HAVE SEX WITH ME!”

It’s like “Me Male, you Female! We’re compatible!” They put far more effort into learning about who is servicing their car than the cunny they’re looking to plunder.

No one has actually ever come out and asked what I want.

In the end, it boils down to me making a lifestyle choice. This is my official announcement that I have made it.