Just returned from a party. 12:15 am, The Prince is out of town, and feel like I wish I had spent the night painting the kitchen and eating some ramen.
I'm afraid I just can't pass anymore into polite society. I insulted at least three people. My favorite? When I said that 39-year-old men dating insane women are obviously not interested in something serious. Now when did my grandmother decide to inhabit my body? Of course telling a guy that his television show is an example of sexism run rampent because they won't hire female writers is up there too.
The thing is I've never been good at chit chat and small talk. But now, when I am racing from leaving the Rabbit mid-tantrum to a party stocked with 30-something singles, I find I expect a little more bang for my buck than people posing and flirting and patting me on the back like I'm some anachronistic throw back the '50s because I have a child. One guy told me that the reason he drinks diet pepsi is because he needs to watch his weight -- and that he's not some mother who can gain weight. WHAT THE HELL????? (And I'm back into the size 7 jeans....FYI)
I guess I always assumed I would have a child. I wanted one. The husband part? I guess I never had a plan for that. But somehow having the "entire package," as one woman said, makes me a pariah. And worse, now I have a gaggle of women friends who often bark at me like I won the magic ring at some carousel and am lording it over them. (I don't know how one can lord hearing "poopies!" 65 times a day...but, uh, okay....)
Maybe I've gotten too exhausted from late night nightmare soothings, early morning viewings of Dora, and all day marathons playing Thomas Train to find playful banter, party chatter and "I'm just teasing!" comments about my mommy-state something I can deal with anymore. Or maybe it's just me.
Help me if I ever find myself heading back to the single life. I'm doomed.