It's a self-loathing kind of day. The kind of day where it's probably for the best that I don't see my friends because they'd want to argue with me about who I am, like I don't know myself. Silly friends of mine.
I'm blaming "Call the Midwife", a delightful little show from PBS. There's a woman on that show who's falling in love with another character. We keep catching her watching him when he's not looking and I think, "I know that feeling". I miss that feeling. It's been so long. So long since I let myself feel that way about anyone. Because I know what's next. Next is the abject and complete humiliation of discovering, one way or another, that he's so far out of my league that the whole thing is just plain laughable. That's the truth of me that even my dearest friends can't quite dance around, though they may poo poo when I say I'm just not attracted to the kind of people who are attracted to me.
Every once in a while one of them will make the mistake of suggesting a romantic connection just so I can be sure they actually do know exactly where I stand on the mystical scale of "Please don't make me look at her" to "I would start a war for her" (it's right around, "I guess I'd do that" in case you were wondering. What is that - a 3?). (Except for BFF, God bless her, who's personal scale of attraction is so far removed from my own that I have NO IDEA what she finds appealing other than Jeffrey Dean Morgan and gingers.)
I guess it's kind of like being a diabetic with a sweet tooth or a baker with Celliac disease or a woman with a shoe fetish and size 13 feet. Only worse than that, really, because the whole world is designed around couples and families and I'm just the odd duck. And love is EVERYWHERE. Except whatever spot I happen to be occupying at the moment. Love has the good sense to avoid that one like the plague that I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment