Coffee Rhetoric: Permutations on Love

July 30, 2007

Permutations on Love

Often on this blog, I lament a lot over being single and not having found my Rebel Prince, not ever having been in love, so forth and so on. As the aging process continues it's cycle (I'll be 30 next month), I realize that I'm not even ready to settle down with someone. A man would truly have to be something akin to one of the 8 Wonders of the World in order for me to fall head over heels and give up the solitude I so enjoy more and more each day. Fellow blogger, Hedonistic Pleasureseeker said it best, when she commented on the Over It entry:
When married people try to set me up I get a little suspicious. First, couples only seem to want to socialize with other couples. It's totally lame, but at least be a little flattered that they're trying to make it "ok" for you to be a part of their little group. Unattended marauding females being so dangerous and suchwhat, you're "safer" around their boyfriends/husbands if some OTHER guy has claimed ownership of your vagina. Men won't respect YOU, but they WILL respect the property rights of other MEN. I know, it's creepy, sexist and gross but it's the truth. Another reason I get suspicious is that I sense that some of them are jealous of my freedom and want to make me as unhappy as they are. Misery loves company! I love not being joined at the hip with someone I have to constantly negotiate with. "What do you want to do?" "I don't know, what do YOU want to do?" BAH! I want him to get out of my house so that I can take a bath and paint my toenails in peace!
I could not have ranted it better myself. As I believe I stated before, being a loner... enjoying my solitude does not mean that I am ALONE or lonely. All of this pining for someone... wanting... grasping... hoping... was all for naught. Particularly considering that I quite possibly would've had the relationship not having been ready for it or even truly wanting it. I would've grown stone-cold like a neglected cup of coffee. The concept of a full time lover would've grown stale. I don't even really want to entertain potential suitors or go on dates anymore. Having a hubby or a live in lover would mark an end to dancing in my underwear as I sing along to the Dream Girls soundtrack. It would mean no more sampling sauces and dipping the spoon back in the pan (a luxury I enjoy since I'm cooking for one). I'd have to eat Nutella out of the jar, on the down low. And worst of all, I'd have to share closet and bathroom space! I'm certainly not ready for that. If I happen upon a bar all by me lonesome, that's the way I want and planned it... and have every intention of leaving alone. A woman sitting with a glass of wine is nothing more than that. It's not an indication that she's on the prowl, hoping to be chatted up and treated to an additional drink and regaled with lascivious stories... at least that's not the case with me. Perhaps all I wanted all along were warm boy parts to keep my mattress warm. Notwithstanding the fact that the thrashing, tossing, and turning my dreams generate produce more than enough heat. How enlightening.