It's Not You

I am famous in small circles and my own mind for my interesting choices of mates. I have no "type," I've always said, at least not physically anyway. I can get just as giddy over a preppy green eyed blond as I can over a dark and spiky haired artist. I don't much care for ugly, because it's not pretty, but I do have a soft spot for the nerds. The cute dorks. Always have. It's the four-eyed bookworm in me. It's intangible, as it probably is for a lot of people, but I like what I like and I know it when I see it and I can't imagine ever giving someone the chance to "grow" on me. Like algae. Or fungus. (Huh. Are algae and fungus the same thing?) Either way, ew.

The one thing I always thought bound a good number of my beloveds together was the complete and utter totality of their commitment issues. I get into a relationship and then stubbornly stay there, come hell or high water, even when, as one ex put it, we seem sort of doomed to be together. Together... but not married. Together ... but ... not really. Not so much. Like magnets, my clinginess and their complete lack thereof simultaneously attract and repel each other. It may not be going anywhere, or even particularly healthy, but I can count on it. It's just the nature of my type.

Now imagine the size of the hole blown into this theory last weekend, when not one but two of my exes got engaged. Neither of them to me.

I can't lie; that'll make you stop hard in your tracks. Particularly when "you" is "me" and "me" is way over this side of 30, childless, and whining on an endless loop to friends, God love 'em, who have long since stopped listening to me bitch about being old and childless.  I always assumed I wasn't married to these particular guys because they had "issues committing." But if they're engaged...

Oh my God.

Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the commitmentphobe.

And maybe I'm just whining about it because I feel like I'm supposed to? I like guys. (Seriously. It was one kiss, drunk in a bar, so don't even go down that path.) And I like kids. I do. I don't like the idea of not being able to have them. But, even at this advanced age, I can't quite hear my biological clock. Maybe mine's on vibrate? I'm sure it's ticking, it must be, but it's not prompting me to action.  I'm just sitting here, still single. Still old and childless.

But really, what's that action supposed to be? Am I to go after guys now like a heat seeking missile, just tracking down someone with a decent head of hair, a controlled beer paunch and some spare sperm? Am I to lower my standards, giving that sort of creepy guy who leers at me every time I go into CVS a chance? (Mind you, he doesn't work there. He's just always there. And he doesn't have a decent head of hair or any control over that gut.) And a chance at what, exactly? Oy.

It's been a retrospective week. A sort of sad one, even. Not because I was supposed to marry either of these guys, because apparently I wasn't. While it's hard not to feel just a little left behind, I trust -- I hope, anyway -- that they have found just the right person for them. I would love for them to be happy and content and have lots of little exes.*

It's just that ... if it's me, I think I'm sort of screwed. I think I can fix anything else but that.


*This is not a completely accurate statement. In fact, it's an outright lie. I tried to be PC but I feel badly about being dishonest. This should read something more along the lines of: I believe completely that one of them has found the right person, and I couldn't be happier for him. He's my friend. One of my best. Our relationship has changed dramatically and continuously in the seven or so years since we met, but I think it's grown and shifted into what it was meant to be. A really great friendship. He's still a shit sometimes and doesn't call me when he's supposed to (you were supposed to call me last week) but he cares about me. He cares to know me and stay in my life and I truly, deeply hope his beautiful young wife-to-be will as well. The other one ... the other one. Not so much. That's all I have to say about the other one.