I think it’s downright ridiculous to have to a play a damn game at my age. I’m not entirely over the hill at 29, but I am too old to have to partake in age-old rituals which I’ve long since considered to be entirely silly. People think I’m just faking the anti, simply because I get a silly kick out of the agony of it. I’m not in agony. I’m just irritated. I think cavemen had the right idea. Bang on head. Drag into cave. Bang the daylights out of her. Nice, uncomplicated and certainly minus the convoluted moth-to-a-flame dance. Now I might be sounding like I think male chauvinist pigs have the right idea in their methods. Not the case at all.
I’m just exhausted with all the effort we need to put into the mating game. Some people get a kick out of the not knowing stage. When you play and toy around with eachother instead of just coming out and saying what you need to. You’re either interested or not right? If that’s the case why do you need to beat about the bush? Even if I want to break out of the mould, I still seem to be forced into the meaningless process of it out of some sense of decorum and etiquette. (Barf! I hate the word. Etiquette. Shudder)
Besides, if my goal is not the babies and picket fences, I don’t see the need for me to have to play this no-win game that seems more complicated that sitting down with Gary Kasparov for a game of chess. I don’t think of it as a challenge. For me it’s an absolute unnecessary ritual that I feel compelled to play because it’s become the norm. You can’t break out of the mould. Besides, it’s been set up as a barrier to defend our pride hasn’t it? Is that it really? We play this silly-assed game because it’s easier that getting shot down? If we knew for certain, would we still need to go through those steps and moves and pirouettes that seem so rehearsed and completely unwarranted?
I know I’m whining but I hate this whole façade. I don’t like this kind of anticipation. I don’t get a thrill out of the waiting. The impatience in my soul makes me behave so neurotically. More so than others. And I prefer to retain my metaphorical posture and not become a nervous bag of rag dolls being tossed around while they’re being carried merrily into the garbage disposal. Ok, so I got a tad too vivid with that description. But you get my drift, don’t you?
People love drama. I just like theatre. I prefer my life free of it and full of the excitement that comes from being fearless. Not waiting for things to take their own unnecessary time but grabbing the bull by the horns and riding the bugger out until you fall or ride him home. I want the stage to the place where I release all my restless theatrics. I want life to be about much more than that. Games are for children. Waiting is for the nunnery. What I want is to know. And know now, before the next damn tango begins.
The Missing Sandwich 