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Some Day My Prince Will Come
March 24, 2004, 12:56am My mother. I don’t know what to do with her sometimes. We were doing the shopping on Sunday, and she was pestering me about my singledom again. It never seemed to bother her before, when it had always been that way (and I was pure and untouched : P) – but now that I’ve had a boyfriend, it’s like she’s realised what I’m missing out on when I’m single, and that just can’t be. Nevermind the fact that this is my hardship to bear. Really, I’m not opposed in any way to the idea of another relationship – just the way she suggests I go about it. She wants me to be something I’m not, just to snare a guy. Hello, something called women’s lib? Something called being true to yourself? Something called having a little freaking dignity?! I want another relationship – I miss having one, all the parts of it: from the kissing and the waking up next to them, to the late-night phone-calls and the sharing of lives, to the spats where you know it’s okay cause you’ll just make up and forgive each other. But I’m not going to force that. I’m not going to go looking for it. Because I don’t want it to be like that, and I’m the kind of girl who can wait. I won’t settle for anything less. Maybe that’s silly and will relegate me to spinsterhood for the rest of my days (I doubt it), but I’ll get what I want or have nothing at all. I’m good at that, I’m a Virgo. And this waiting isn’t all bad – I have a sneaking suspicion that the sudden return of my creativity (which is quite startling, actually – I was writing a song yesterday. A song. Not that it’s necessarily any good, but hey, writing something is better than writing nothing) has something to do with any misery I may have experienced in the past eight months. Which means that ‘creative genius’ may indeed equal ‘melancholic bastard’, which in turn means I have to strike musicians, artists and writers off my list of potential soul-mates : ). Or perhaps it has something to do with a sudden re-focussing of my life on me. Before the Elf-boy, there was another person, to whom I devoted most of my time and effort. It wasn’t entirely wasted, but my skills were not enough for him, and so mostly it was a drain on me. I barely escaped that friendship with a positive opinion of him. Hmm . . . It’s getting colder. I love all the seasons, for their different characters – the summer for her thunderstorms and brightness; the winter for scarves and hot chocolate; spring for flowers and green grass; autumn for fallen leaves underfoot – but I will miss the warmth of summer. I get cold too easily, and last winter I had someone to hold me when I shivered. This winter it’s just me and my doona. I miss sleeping next to someone. There’s nothing more perfect than discovering the ways you fit into someone, like two puzzles pieces coming together.
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