I got married for the first time when I was 24. I did this because my friends were doing it and I felt like I needed to get it out of the way. Also, his parents said if we lived together, they would disown him. And it was 1980 and more than anything in the world, I wanted children. He treated me terribly but I married him anyway.
So after about 8 or 9 months of marriage, he stood up in our dining room where six people were sitting around the table eating and getting pleasantly smashed, and hit me over the head with a beer bottle. And you know what? I didn’t leave him. I didn’t leave him the next week either when he got up first thing in the morning and shoved me into the bedroom wall and onto the floor. Instead I pulled myself up and heaved his sorry butt into the closet. I’m ashamed to say it took 7 or 8 times before I left him. I was embarrassed. I thought his treatment of me proved that I was unlovable and I didn’t want anyone to know that about me.
I moved back in with my parents for a few months and then got an apartment. And in 1985, in order to prove that I could do this marriage thing right, I said “I do” to another terrible choice. This one wasn’t bad or not nice. He just wasn’t the right guy for me. And when I felt it all coming unglued after about five years, I talked him into buying a very expensive house so we would have to stay together in order to afford it.
So anyhow. Marriage – not a fan. I know many more married people than I do unmarried and I don’t see a lot of relationships that I would find acceptable for me. Actually none.
I have spent the majority of my adult life in an unmarried state. I am a survivor of the heterosexual wars. And I wish it didn’t have to be a war – but it certainly appears to be.
This is who I want.
Someone who is smart, funny, strong enough to not be afraid of me, self-assured and self-sufficient, someone with kids would be nice, someone who does not feel for any reason that he should ever tell me what to do, a man who loves sex, employed or retired with enough money. Doesn’t have to be a lot, but enough. And someone who loves my dog. A man who reads books and can hold up his end of a lively debate. A man with intellectual curiosity. A man who can lift heavy stuff would be good. Someone who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. Maybe a nice Italian guy who grows his own tomatoes and basil…
These are things that attract me – physically.
Baldness, crinkly smiley eyes, height, a man who smells good.
None of these physical characteristics are a deal-breaker for me but its what I notice first. Just sayin’.
I am a happy person. I will be happy whether or not I find my dream guy. I think of this man like frosting on my cupcake. My cupcake is good but it would be better with chocolate heart attack frosting. If you need this recipe, let me know. It is delicious and rich and creamy and very high in cholesterol. You probably shouldn’t eat it very often, but you can if you want to. If I don’t want my man telling me what to do, I’m sure not going to give orders to anyone else. If you really want the honking frosting, then eat it. I won’t tell you no.
If you are reading this, you probably know me. Consider this a singles ad. HAH!