I have a joke with one of my friends, where we say we're engaged. We continuously refer to this supposed engagement all over the place.
By now, after so many years of dealing with Facebook and the drama it causes, I should have known some sort of bullshit was going to happen in regards to this banter with my faux-fiancé.
The day we arrived in Costa Rica, it took all of half an hour for others to start digging into my relationship status. THIRTY-FUCKING-MINUTES.
We were whisked into my friend's mother's home upon arrival from the airport, and quickly ushered into the dining room.
I was digging into my arroz con pollo, when the first jab at my status was thrown my way.
ManOfTheHouse: Decided to leave the boyfriend at home?
Me: Nah. No boyfriend to worry about.
ManOfTheHouse: Oh, so you're here to find yourself a Tico boyfriend, I see.
Me: Nah. I just really like it here.
ManOfTheHouse: Because your "rib" is calling you here. You'll find him in due time.
Me: ... nah.
My "rib." Get the fuck out of here.
I lost my appetite and went to play some soccer with my little ones.
The following day, my friends took me to a huge, private hospital. Francisco, the man of the group, is friends with the administrator of the cardiology department, and told us the dude was eager to meet Mom and me if we were cool with it (the man owns an island off the coast, this was flattering as fuck. Of course we agreed!).
Fran: Good place to find a Tico boyfriend ::wink::
Me: ... I dropped out of medical school because I hate doctors... (but I DID have interest in cardiology... goddamn it)
For the following two hours spent at the hospital, each young dude we bumped into would elicit some sort of wink or eyebrow raise from Francisco towards me. I'd just crack a side-smile and shake my head.
... there were about seven cute guys. Whatever. I'm a girl, ok? I have eyes and have a vast appreciation of the male form. Shit.
Friday we had a school function to attend for the littlest of my buddies, so we headed over in the early afternoon.
As we waited in line to enter the school, we started talking about the next couple of days, which we were going to spend camping in the jungle and shit of that nature. Mom and I were thanking them for the time they were taking out of their schedule to spend it with us and show us around.
Francisco: It's the least we could do. All we ask is that we get invited to AnoMALIE's wedding.
Me: No need for that, just come as soon as you can, because if you wait until my wedding, you'll never get to see the States.
Francisco: You're really NOT getting married?
Me: NO! Never!
Francisco: Doesn't that upset your boyfriend? Or are you guys just planning to elope? If you elope, just let us know at least a month in advance so we can make it to that.
Me: Nah, no eloping. No marriage. No boyfriend. I'm staying single forever. So no weddings or any of that.
The rest of the week, even while we were out checking out mangroves and geeking out over toucans and white-faced capuchin monkeys and hermit crabs and fucking boas, references to my "fiancé" were made. It took me ALL WEEK to try to convince them I truly was not engaged, had no intention to marry ANYONE, and that I was fine alone-- I am fine living vicariously through others (I'll just watch YOU fuck up not only your life, but also the lives of others. I'll chill here and occasionally cry myself to sleep when feeling extra lonely... then proceed to continue with my worry-free life).
Did I succeed in convincing them?
My second-to-last day in Costa Rica, we went to the ritziest mall in San Jose and window-shopped, for the most part (we wound up buying about 200 dollars-worth of coffee. That shit is MAAAAAAAAGIC, I tell ya!). We walked past a wedding dress store.
Francisco: Look! That dress is perfect for AnoMALIE' wedding with *DudeFriendIJokeWith*
Mom stares at me. My little homies stare at me and giggle with their mom.
Me: Nah. Nope. No wedding. With anyone. Ever. No dresses. Not gonna happen.
I tried to be happy during this trip... and I was... at times I was pretty fucking euphoric (those goddamned adorable, intelligent capuchin monkeys... and the lovelorn toucans, made me feel like I was going to burst out of my skin... as did all the fucking rice I ate out there, but that's another story), but there was this wild, lingering sense of sadness. It would be... somewhat unbearable sometimes.
It's one thing to hate on myself for being so alone and unable to attract dudes (that I like, to be fucking clear here), but another to feel the pity and judgement from others because of my single status. They feel SO SORRY, and SO COMPELLED to hook me up-- with ANYONE-- as if that's the sole purpose of living. Live to be in a relationship? To have a companion? To fuck? WHY? Why is it so unacceptable to be alone? Is it unthinkable that some folk out there enjoy solitude?
Yeah, it makes me sad if I think about NEVER finding someone I click with... to go on all these adventures without my "rib"... that perhaps my lobster has been captured and digested a LONGASS time ago... but I resigned myself to this life.
I've said it before: I'm alone. I'm solitray. I always have been. I can't MISS something I've NEVER had... no use in YEARNING for it.
My creative writing teacher always said the point in life was to find something to keep us occupied while the hearse gets here... and that's what I do. I stay occupied by drawing, and writing, and reading, and coloring, and throwing rocks, and climbing shit, and lifting shit, and seeing shit... asking questions, answering questions, laughing, crying... all that shit. Nowhere in there am I making out with boys, groping or getting groped, fucking, and MUCH LESS raising babies. You see that as weird? Well, I see your low-tolerance of chilies as weird, but you don't see me rubbing a fucking habanero all over your face.
Live and let live.
Is it sad that I CAN'T and probably WON'T find love? Yeah, I guess, since the majority of the world seems to do a decent job at it... and it is kinda sad to read about all those people who die all alone and shit... but I stay busy and play around with my surroundings, waiting for that hearse to pick me up.
By now, after so many years of dealing with Facebook and the drama it causes, I should have known some sort of bullshit was going to happen in regards to this banter with my faux-fiancé.
The day we arrived in Costa Rica, it took all of half an hour for others to start digging into my relationship status. THIRTY-FUCKING-MINUTES.
We were whisked into my friend's mother's home upon arrival from the airport, and quickly ushered into the dining room.
I was digging into my arroz con pollo, when the first jab at my status was thrown my way.
ManOfTheHouse: Decided to leave the boyfriend at home?
Me: Nah. No boyfriend to worry about.
ManOfTheHouse: Oh, so you're here to find yourself a Tico boyfriend, I see.
Me: Nah. I just really like it here.
ManOfTheHouse: Because your "rib" is calling you here. You'll find him in due time.
Me: ... nah.
My "rib." Get the fuck out of here.
I lost my appetite and went to play some soccer with my little ones.
The following day, my friends took me to a huge, private hospital. Francisco, the man of the group, is friends with the administrator of the cardiology department, and told us the dude was eager to meet Mom and me if we were cool with it (the man owns an island off the coast, this was flattering as fuck. Of course we agreed!).
Fran: Good place to find a Tico boyfriend ::wink::
Me: ... I dropped out of medical school because I hate doctors... (but I DID have interest in cardiology... goddamn it)
For the following two hours spent at the hospital, each young dude we bumped into would elicit some sort of wink or eyebrow raise from Francisco towards me. I'd just crack a side-smile and shake my head.
... there were about seven cute guys. Whatever. I'm a girl, ok? I have eyes and have a vast appreciation of the male form. Shit.
Friday we had a school function to attend for the littlest of my buddies, so we headed over in the early afternoon.
As we waited in line to enter the school, we started talking about the next couple of days, which we were going to spend camping in the jungle and shit of that nature. Mom and I were thanking them for the time they were taking out of their schedule to spend it with us and show us around.
Francisco: It's the least we could do. All we ask is that we get invited to AnoMALIE's wedding.
Me: No need for that, just come as soon as you can, because if you wait until my wedding, you'll never get to see the States.
Francisco: You're really NOT getting married?
Me: NO! Never!
Francisco: Doesn't that upset your boyfriend? Or are you guys just planning to elope? If you elope, just let us know at least a month in advance so we can make it to that.
Me: Nah, no eloping. No marriage. No boyfriend. I'm staying single forever. So no weddings or any of that.
The rest of the week, even while we were out checking out mangroves and geeking out over toucans and white-faced capuchin monkeys and hermit crabs and fucking boas, references to my "fiancé" were made. It took me ALL WEEK to try to convince them I truly was not engaged, had no intention to marry ANYONE, and that I was fine alone-- I am fine living vicariously through others (I'll just watch YOU fuck up not only your life, but also the lives of others. I'll chill here and occasionally cry myself to sleep when feeling extra lonely... then proceed to continue with my worry-free life).
Did I succeed in convincing them?
My second-to-last day in Costa Rica, we went to the ritziest mall in San Jose and window-shopped, for the most part (we wound up buying about 200 dollars-worth of coffee. That shit is MAAAAAAAAGIC, I tell ya!). We walked past a wedding dress store.
Francisco: Look! That dress is perfect for AnoMALIE' wedding with *DudeFriendIJokeWith*
Mom stares at me. My little homies stare at me and giggle with their mom.
Me: Nah. Nope. No wedding. With anyone. Ever. No dresses. Not gonna happen.
I tried to be happy during this trip... and I was... at times I was pretty fucking euphoric (those goddamned adorable, intelligent capuchin monkeys... and the lovelorn toucans, made me feel like I was going to burst out of my skin... as did all the fucking rice I ate out there, but that's another story), but there was this wild, lingering sense of sadness. It would be... somewhat unbearable sometimes.
It's one thing to hate on myself for being so alone and unable to attract dudes (that I like, to be fucking clear here), but another to feel the pity and judgement from others because of my single status. They feel SO SORRY, and SO COMPELLED to hook me up-- with ANYONE-- as if that's the sole purpose of living. Live to be in a relationship? To have a companion? To fuck? WHY? Why is it so unacceptable to be alone? Is it unthinkable that some folk out there enjoy solitude?
Yeah, it makes me sad if I think about NEVER finding someone I click with... to go on all these adventures without my "rib"... that perhaps my lobster has been captured and digested a LONGASS time ago... but I resigned myself to this life.
I've said it before: I'm alone. I'm solitray. I always have been. I can't MISS something I've NEVER had... no use in YEARNING for it.
My creative writing teacher always said the point in life was to find something to keep us occupied while the hearse gets here... and that's what I do. I stay occupied by drawing, and writing, and reading, and coloring, and throwing rocks, and climbing shit, and lifting shit, and seeing shit... asking questions, answering questions, laughing, crying... all that shit. Nowhere in there am I making out with boys, groping or getting groped, fucking, and MUCH LESS raising babies. You see that as weird? Well, I see your low-tolerance of chilies as weird, but you don't see me rubbing a fucking habanero all over your face.
Live and let live.
Is it sad that I CAN'T and probably WON'T find love? Yeah, I guess, since the majority of the world seems to do a decent job at it... and it is kinda sad to read about all those people who die all alone and shit... but I stay busy and play around with my surroundings, waiting for that hearse to pick me up.
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