In the eyes of a parental type having a man by your side ensures that you are no longer the recipient of the looks, the sympathy, and the indignity of the single 30something. Being at home with my family, alone, single, is a type of torture reserved for those who have carried out the most dastardly of deeds (not buying a round, not liking football, not taking a joke), so whilst I certainly don’t define myself by having a man by my side; I must say this weekend’s visit home was rather easier on the shame factor than at Christmas.
This time there were no shoulder squeezes from my papa, no ‘well you’ve been through them before, you’ll meet one again’ from my mum and no random flirtations from the only single man left in the village under 45 and old enough to legally be in the pub. A weekend without humiliation doesn’t require copious alcohol, long walks in the country and wistful (read, evil) looks at every happy couple. Ahem.
Instead there are family bbqs, sober(ish) trips to the pub, day trips to Liverpool (where I manage to feck up meeting LizSara of If Music Be and Brennig, oops) and taking in my dad’s comedy show, where he humiliates himself enough for the whole village (pictures at the bottom).
Pretty much going away, getting out of the city, weekend in the country bliss.
That is unless one is expected to spend much of the weekend on Skype cooing over a pixel-ated 3 month year old sprog which whilst undeniably cute (picture at bottom too), doesn’t actually do anything interesting yet. Not only is it hard to feign the dutiful auntie act over the course of an entire weekend, but it’s twice as hard when all the women of a certain age (mainlining HRT), delighted by the fact you have caught an attractive, sane, and still young-enough-to-be-fertile man; keep implying that you too must be ready for procreation.
For the last and final time, I am not.
Despite the fact that I can admit to wanting some of the wedding-house-bigger house-nice car- stuff that my sister has (yes I know that makes me sound shallow), it’s the stability-marriage-family stuff I desire. The sense of belonging, of you aren’t going anywhere, the look in someone’s eyes that tells you they can catch a dose of your crazy and love you for it. Yes, that’s what I want and if that involves babies at some point in the future, then so be it. I guess you don’t get family without them.
… but, I have no desire for the 3 months of sleepless nights my sister has just had, or the screaming post natal type depression she is currently enduring, or the fact my mother has to tell everyone about it. Everything. And I mean everything.
Chip off the old block me.
Mwah
Kx
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