Tremulous Hopes…
I’m not a hopeful person. At all. I don’t expect anything good to come to my life. I have a hard time accepting compliments. I don’t believe there is anything in the world for me but what I make for myself. I have trouble understanding why people even bother with me.
Truthfully, most people don’t bother with me. If I don’t have anything to start a conversation about, I don’t think it’s important to make idle conversation. I’m just not a chatty person. So, I ‘know’ a lot of people with whom I rarely have conversations. It doesn’t bother me at all. I talk to them when there’s a reason to, and it’s perfectly okay with me. And, I find that a lot of people begrudge me this. When I point out that those same people never talked TO me, they become angry. Because, apparently, I’m the one person in the entire world who is aloof and condescending and judgmental by not saying anything at all.
Maybe all of these complaining people are just egotistical and insecure hypocrites. I don’t know what else to think. It’s bizarre to me that so many people seem to come to the same conclusion (despite the fact that I make it quite clear that I don’t talk unless I have something to say) – I’m always at fault. Their perspective is that the problem is me, despite the fact that I don’t even notice that I’ve not talked to them until they come yelling at me about how I ‘think I’m better than them’ or whatever.
Realistically, I don’t think about talking to people unless I have something to talk to them about. This doesn’t mean I never think about them as people or that I don’t care about them. It just means I don’t have anything in particular to say. I don’t know why this is so hard for people to accept? I don’t understand the double standard.
Anyway, what I am trying to talk about is that I have felt strange lately. Strange for me, anyway. I’ve felt something akin to optimism. I felt positively pleasant a few days ago. It is slightly unsettling to me, because I don’t understand the point of feeling good. I already know it’s just going to end up with me feeling bad. I generally don’t waste time feeling hope because I don’t want to feel disappointment when my hopes prove fruitless.
I feel off-balance and confused because the other day, I had the thought, “I think I’m ready for a boyfriend.” Except, that’s not what I really meant. What I really meant is, “I want to be held and kissed tenderly and feel like it’s okay to let my guard down and admit that I need another being who will allow me to feel safe and secure.” Which is a lot different.
Because, I really don’t want to have a ‘boyfriend’ – I am very much repulsed by the thought of being dutiful to a guy who wants a mommy surrogate. (Having never actually had a true boyfriend, where it was a mutually beneficial and openly honest relationship, that’s really the only way I can imagine ‘having a boyfriend’ would be like.) If I wanted another kid, I’d get another kid.
I don’t even understand how I’d get a boyfriend, let alone how anyone would truly be interested in a creep-ass, weird, nerdy, prudish, unadorned and slightly loco mother of three children.
I mean, I see single mothers and their boyfriends. And those boyfriends look very, very unappealing to me. Like bottom of the barrel unappealing. Like, I scraped the fish scales off the fish and they’re the mud/scale mix that’s left over unappealing.
And, I’m going to be honest here, I’m not desperate.
So, what is it I want? And why am I having random thoughts about boyfriends?
When I look at the guys going after mothers, I really just see guys looking for sex. And, so I know I’ll never be able to find a boyfriend because I’m not doling out sex for just any male who says cheesy lines and tries to take me out somewhere.
First off, I don’t want to go on any dates. Secondly, I don’t go anywhere that these people might see me as a vulnerable and lonely single mother to pick up and discard on a whim.
I don’t know what to think.
I’m confusing to myself.
I want to feel loved.
I think that’s it, really.
I want to feel loved, but not in exchange for my sense of self.
So, what am I hopeful for? I don’t even know. I can’t see myself as being lovable or worthy of any good guy’s attentions. I don’t think there is anyone who could be patient and tender with me. I can’t even imagine anyone looking at me with interest. I’m too much of a realist, I guess – I recognize that I’m not a prime catch by the world’s standards, so I don’t see how anyone would ever see me as such.
It makes me sad, to recognize how undesirable I am. I know full well that I bring an aura of awkwardness wherever I go. I realize that I’m not worth the trouble because I have nothing scintillating or exciting to offer. I think I’m too simple-minded… Why would anyone want a farmer-to-be who has dirt under her nails, trees on the mind, and who doesn’t like to party or talk but who likes science fiction and baking and building forts?
At the same time, though, I refuse to pretend my way through life anymore. And, I know that people don’t like me as I am. I know this. They tell me this all the time. But, I still have some tiny hope that somewhere in the world, there’s a guy that could look at me and think I’m worth it.
I guess I am saying, I’m ready for him to find me someday. That would be nice.