Frankly my dear,
This week I celebrated my first birthday in C-Town in splendid solitude – I worked alone, ate my disgusting lunch kebab (damn you Ali Baba for convincing me to come back yet again to see if this time I would finally get a decent kebab and then giving me food poisoning just to add injury to insult), and then, still in solitude, went to the movies (oh Bright Star how I love thee).
Woah woah woah, I just had to pause a moment and consider just exactly what I was about to say. Was I going to say that no, really solitude is how I roll or was I going to say that actually, I was glad that none of my friends were around because then I didn’t have to be reminded that I’m always the third/fifth/seventh wheel at social gatherings?
Hmm..I can’t decide.
*more thinking music*
I’m just going to settle for telling you that on the whole I’m fairly easygoing but really, I don’t want to ever hear the word “impregnate” again (eg. “my husband is home on leave and he has ten days to impregnate me.” Seriously, what the freaking hell??!) nor do I want to have to occupy myself at dinner while you feed each other, and really Mum, you don’t have to depress me by changing “one day when you have a family..” to “if you ever, maybe, have a family…” And I wish girls wouldn’t keep retreating to the boycave for months at a time (you know, when you never hear from them or they no longer have time to catch up) whenever they get a new fella in their life.
I’m going to stop before I sound bitter. Wait, I’m too late aren’t I? Oh dear.
I’m not actually that unhappy with my solitary status – I certainly haven’t taken any steps to change it. Perhaps I just need more solitary friends to hang around with so that I don’t get white picket fence envy.
Frankly my dear, sometimes it “ain’t easy bein’ independent.”