If I\’m single, I can live where ever I want.
I I\’m single, I have to go back to sleeping with the electric blanket because there will be no warm body to suck the heat from.
If I\’m single, I don\’t have to clean up after a messy and inconsiderate boyfriend.
If I\’m single, I may have to clean up after messy and inconsiderate housemates.
If I\’m single, I can eat as infrequently as I want.
If I\’m single, I might not be able to afford to eat with any frequency at all.
If I\’m single, I can stay up as late as I want and get up as early as I want.
If I\’m single, there is no one to rush home and help me off my ass when I\’ve fallen and can\’t get up.
When \”love\” and \”desire\” replace \”need\” and \”quality of life,\” your \”relationship\” is \”fucked.\”
Were things this bad in DC? No, because I had other things to do, other things to occupy me, outside of the apartment. Here, I have a ton of things I need to do and they all involve sitting here at the computer, surrounded by the dust and crumbs that so quicky accumulate over the weekend. Detritus that he never cleans up. That old dog will not learn a new trick, no. Back home, I spent the last few months there getting rid of my last few large possessions as they were taking up space and were not being used — gone are the moped, the mattress and bed frame, the double sheets, the old kitchenware: everything from my old, single life that no longer had any place in the life of a couple who had been cohabitating in tight quarters for two years.
Of course, now that I don\’t have a mattress or a frying pan to my name, I want my own space again. My own safe retreat, with its obscene neatness, its outrageous tidiness — no knick knacks, no dust, no crumbs, no shoes in the middle of the floor or line of empty bottles next to the sink.
Just two and a half more months here, right?
In two weeks, his sprog arrives. Thirteen years of pubescent energy, stuck in my addled care all day. I have work to do — classes, sites to maintain. And a thirteen year old to feed and keep occupied. Okay, fine, I knew that was coming. I have been trying to prepare myself for that. Now I discover that on top of the mini-Maude\’s presence, Dr. Maude\’s brother, Elder Maude, will also be here, and his brother\’s 10 year old daughter, Edler Maude\’s Sprog. All at once. All three guests at once. We have ONE spare bedroom.
Mini-Maude and Elder Maude\’s Sprog do not get along. Elder Maude\’s Sprog is, um, more than a bit spoiled, throws a lot of tantrums, demands a lot of attention, picks a lot of fights, etc., and refuses to listen to authority. Her father, Elder Maude, does not, in any case, discipline her much. Elder Maude is a recovering alcoholic. Maude is an alcoholic in denial (read: he won\’t quit).
ALL FIVE OF US ARE MEANT TO BE LIVING HERE FOR TWO WEEKS while I am meant to be making my first successful return to schooling since eighth grade, which was more than ten years ago.
I want to run away. I just don\’t know where to run.
I don\’t fucking need this shit. I don\’t. It\’s not that I\’m \”better\” than it, it\’s that I\’m not ready for it or that it\’s not me. My life is in no way congruent to taking care of and being responsible for a family. I don\’t even do a great job taking care of myself on my own, but I\’m starting to realize that the shit I put myself through on my own may be better than the shit I have to put myself through when I have to add this other family into the equation.
I need more alone time. Time when the tv isn\’t on, where the kid or the Dr isn\’t yammering in the background. I don\’t know how \”adults\” manage to go back to school and succeed. Blows my mind. I don\’t know how I\’m going to do it if I don\’t get more space. S P A C E. Physical goddamn space. I don\’t want to break up with Dr Maude, I just don\’t want to live with him at this point. Is that kosher? Can relationships just be dialed back in that manner? I NEED my very clearly delineated own space and own time and not have to worry about coming out of my internal daze to find I have to clean up someone else\’s dishes or some such shit like that. Am I being completely unreasonable? I know for a fact that asking him for this in our relationship will not illicit the change because I\’ve been asking for years and it hasn\’t happened. It\’s time for something else. In the mean time, how the hell am I going to make it through this June through August with the family here? Augh.
I\’m too young to be this old and too old to be this young. Is it normal to be this much at odds with yourself ALL your life? I consistently feel like I went straight from adolescent angst straight into the quarter-life crisis, with no pause in between for the light caress of care free college know it all hijinks.
