How Many Times Are You Going To Ask Me?

“You’re not seeing anyone?”

I hate this question.

It had no humor in my teens.

There wasn’t a possible spark of tolerance for it in my twenties.

So being asked this question when I’m over thirty-five and closer than I’d like to forty; uh I detest the hell out of it.

“No. I’m not.” The answer is as dry as a snack box of cereal with no milk.

I have one relative in particular who always has a slight glint in their eye when they ask. “Oh, why not?” The mock interrogation continues, a smirk, barely contained.

Sigh…I release an exaggerated pocket of air, raise my hands in defeat, shrug my shoulders and say, “Humph, can’t be bothered.”

I don’t think they realize this has a double meaning. Or maybe they do and they get a kick out of anticipating my repetitive answer.

Before you read this thinking, “Aww, poor Glorious!” It’s OK, really. My kin has bad timing. I don’t see them often although we live in the same town. They usually catch me between situations. However I can’t lie, there haven’t been too many opportunities for my answer to change. Not to mention the social scene here does not lend itself well to singles.

So every, “You’re not dating? You don’t have a friend? Don’t you want to get married?”; makes me cringe. The questions are a reminder of where I am and where I’m not. I hate that my family gets a kick out of the scowl I give them. I hate that the inquisition makes me cognizant of the baby clock ticking away. That sound I tend to ignore for the most part except when I’m in a store and a child crying in the distance simulates chimpanzees during mating season. My uterus literally jumps. Apologies to the male readers or those who just don’t want that info. It’s like the universe is taunting me.

“See, you waited too long.”

“You know how old you’ll be when your kid is in college?”

“Just get a dog and call it a day.” 

These are the thoughts folks. I used to think the media were exaggerating what 30 somethings go through. Unfortunately, they got it right. I’m in the last place I expected I’d be. I’m not living the dream. I know I don’t need a mate. But honestly, I don’t want to do this alone. Though the way my life has played out, exhausted, I flip relationships the bird.

The other day I was playing John Mayer’s Perfectly Lonely while writing to a friend. I tried not to, but I felt the words more than I wished I did. Writing this piece I realized I didn’t want to end it on that note. I also couldn’t find a good link for the song. My best laid plans have yet come to fruition. Instead of fighting, I’ll just go with it. Maybe if I let go of expectations on my life, I’ll appreciate it as is. And so Good Love Is On The Way seems like the perfect ending.

                                                                                                                                                       

This post was written in response to the Daily Prompt: Plead The Fifth

What question do you hate to be asked? Why?

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