Why I will probably never get married
I actually do believe, dear children, that gay marriage will be made legal in my lifetime. And there will be lovely rainbow-hued weddings from sea to shining sea, and we will all be so happy, and then our divorce rate will quickly rise up to the challenge the straights have laid before us, and everyone will shut up and it'll be just peachy.
I also do not believe that I will stay unmarried because of my terrible and horrific fatty fat fatness. I have more than my share of dates, when I, you know, agree to go out on one, and my darling obese ass has broken more than a few hearts. I plan on addressing all of this in a later post about how I refuse to spend my entire life starving myself so I can look like a prepubescent version of myself, but that is not necessarily important to this topic. Suffice it to say that I'm not afraid that my glorious fatness will leave me cold and alone in the dark.
No, my dear ones, my permanently single self will be due to my personality. I am picky, I am obstinate, I am vain...and I'm sort of okay with all of those things. I'm always going to be the girl who spends too much on clothes and shoes and makeup, and my lord, if some woman tried to tame that she would find herself in a world of trouble. Vanity is a part of my essential nature, right along with my being a whore and refusal to commit. I'm like the lesbian Blanche Devereaux. All the other lesbians in my life are in some sort of race to see who can be tied down the fastest, and it's somewhat like being out on Black Friday, when people are picking up anything they see that even remotely looks promising, to say nothing of the disappointment when you get the toaster out of the box and figure out that she is physically incapable of doing the damn dishes. Come to think of it, most of my straight friends are doing this too. I don't know if there is some sort of madness that seizes people in their 20s, but it's like they're all flinging themselves upstream to spawn. I somehow missed the memo. I would rather spend the rest of my life alone than be with someone who didn't suit my needs pretty damn close to perfectly. If I really get interested in someone, I ask all the biggies: Do you want kids? The religion thing, for real, are we going to have a conflict? (That one is generally yes) Are you going to be boring?
Add that on to my sassy-ass mouth and cover-stealing ass, and it's pretty easy to see why I'm not going to walk down the aisle unless a get hit in the head with a stone gargoyle and it massively alters my personality. And I'm fine with that. I don't really know how to compromise, in that way. I mean, that's why God created cats. If they won't shut up, I can just stick them in the laundry room.
I also do not believe that I will stay unmarried because of my terrible and horrific fatty fat fatness. I have more than my share of dates, when I, you know, agree to go out on one, and my darling obese ass has broken more than a few hearts. I plan on addressing all of this in a later post about how I refuse to spend my entire life starving myself so I can look like a prepubescent version of myself, but that is not necessarily important to this topic. Suffice it to say that I'm not afraid that my glorious fatness will leave me cold and alone in the dark.
No, my dear ones, my permanently single self will be due to my personality. I am picky, I am obstinate, I am vain...and I'm sort of okay with all of those things. I'm always going to be the girl who spends too much on clothes and shoes and makeup, and my lord, if some woman tried to tame that she would find herself in a world of trouble. Vanity is a part of my essential nature, right along with my being a whore and refusal to commit. I'm like the lesbian Blanche Devereaux. All the other lesbians in my life are in some sort of race to see who can be tied down the fastest, and it's somewhat like being out on Black Friday, when people are picking up anything they see that even remotely looks promising, to say nothing of the disappointment when you get the toaster out of the box and figure out that she is physically incapable of doing the damn dishes. Come to think of it, most of my straight friends are doing this too. I don't know if there is some sort of madness that seizes people in their 20s, but it's like they're all flinging themselves upstream to spawn. I somehow missed the memo. I would rather spend the rest of my life alone than be with someone who didn't suit my needs pretty damn close to perfectly. If I really get interested in someone, I ask all the biggies: Do you want kids? The religion thing, for real, are we going to have a conflict? (That one is generally yes) Are you going to be boring?
Add that on to my sassy-ass mouth and cover-stealing ass, and it's pretty easy to see why I'm not going to walk down the aisle unless a get hit in the head with a stone gargoyle and it massively alters my personality. And I'm fine with that. I don't really know how to compromise, in that way. I mean, that's why God created cats. If they won't shut up, I can just stick them in the laundry room.