December 13, 2007
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The Spinster
“Is it too early to call myself a Spinster?”
My mom pauses in putting her seatbelt on, somewhat chagrinned by my question.
“Early in the day or early in your life?” she finally asks as I pull the car out from the curb and ease the nearly frozen motor to a decent purr.
“I’m just saying…. It seems like my life is out of synch with everyone else’s. I mean, I’m now single again and …. seriously putting in an effort into this whole ‘dating’ thing, but guys that were single when I wasn’t are now unavailable …. well, I’m kinda sorta interested in someone but…..” and I let the sentence die out, even though I really, really hate it when people do that.
“Is he white?” she asks not unkindly.
“Yeah. Haven’t you noticed I only date white guys. Or, more specifically, only white guys want to date me?”
Mom snorts and snickers.
“What’s so funny?” I ask indignantly.
“No one else will put up with you.”
I chuff, grumble, and pout at the red stoplight.
“I’m never gonna find anyone, am I. I should just resign myself to dying alone and unloved.”
“Probably,” she answers. I glare at her and she snickers again. “You won’t be happy with anyone who isn’t as smart or smarter than you are. I told you when you were younger that you have to find someone with a higher IQ, otherwise you’ll be miserable.”
“Wha…. come on! I can compromise!”
“Yes, but you need someone who understands what the word ‘compromise’ means.”
I’m silent as we drive in the increasing light of dawn. She continues, her voice serious in the chamber of the car. “You’ll be so…. frustrated with anyone else. When something interests you, you talk so fast that only Christina can understand, and even then, your mind makes lots of …. jumps and …. and sometimes its very difficult not to let you make myself fell dumb. And you can be so….. blunt about everything. You have no filter. Most people can’t take that. You need to have more tact.”
“But if it’s the – “
“And don’t tell me you’re ‘only saying what’s true’ because that’s not an excuse to hurt someone else’s feelings.”
I grumble some more, chastised, but respond from the heart when I say “I’d rather that I hurt them with the truth than to have them get it from a stranger or someone not as close.”
She’s quiet for an entire song. Then “It’s not so bad being alone for a while. You just need to get used to it.”
I defiantly want to tell her that no! I won’t get used to it, it’s not a lovely feeling at all being lonely! and I can love anyone like a…. a mechanic or a …. construction worker or ….. or anybody who doesn’t need to Be Somebody….. yeah…. I can be happy with someone like that. But she’s right, and she’s wrong, because I do have a filter but I think God installed it backwards because for the life of me, lies die in my mouth and it’s bitter, so bitter to have to swallow denial.
