I was married once. And that’s all I have to say about that.
Once is enough for me. I got a taste of the grass on the other side, and I think I’d prefer soylent green. I’m stuck on single. It’s a choice, and one I’m content with. And that’s all I have to say about that.
I didn’t spend my childhood marrying Barbie and Ken in ever increasingly garish ceremonies. I spent my childhood making mud pies and nursing scrapped knees. Playing softball and climbing trees.
I didn’t spend any time imagining myself wed in a castle. I imagined myself battling the Black Thing and the Nothing. Traipsing through secret gardens and forests with red ferns.
When I had to “spend” a million dollars for an economics class project, it wasn’t on a gown, an extravagant reception, and an exotic honeymoon like so many of my female classmates. I got a D- because, although I completed the project, I simply “bought” the inventory of the Library of Congress.
I’ve heard this makes me socially inept. I tend to disagree, and so do my fun-loving friends. I’ve heard this discredits my “girl card,” as if its only qualifier is being an other half. I’ve heard this makes me a whore, since I still get laid. That’s all a bunch of bullshit.
Choice is something I believe in. I have the mental capacity to make my own choices. Most of us do. It’s my choice to be single, as it’s someone else’s choice to be wed. Some choose life-long partnerships without ever exchanging vows. Some choose same sex partnerships. Some choose opposite sex partnerships. Some choose no partnerships.
I give no fucks as to what partnership choice you make. I also give no fucks as to your opinion on my partnership choice. And that’s all I have to say about that.