|
|
It's My Bar of Chocolate
December 31, 2004, 3:04 a.m. A day or so ago I was tempted to write the following in an email to the Elf-boy: “Top Three Things It’s Generally Never Considered A Good Idea To Do:I didn’t. Instead, I wrote something about him being oh-so-cute and pinching his cheek. I figured since it was an email it would be easier to lie out-right, and I didn’t need to make a joke of the situation, and therefore reveal that I wasn’t as happy about it as I could have been. Cause that’s what I do when I’m upset about something: I joke about it. I don’t know what to think of this particular coping mechanism. On the one hand, it is a coping mechanism, and it does help me cope – I get to laugh at my dilemmas, my fears, my hurts, what have you, and it stops me from becoming too maudlin. But am I actually coping with something that upsets me if I just push it away and make a joke of it? If I make everything light and funny, and pretend it’s all okay - it gets me through the next fifteen minutes, the next hour, the next day, but what about the long-term? If I take away the severity of something, do I actually lessen the extent of its damage, or am I just pretending it’s not there? I don’t know: I hope it’s the former, I fear it’s the latter. Anyway. It’s December 31st (2:51 ante-meridian, to be precise) and it’s time to make some sort of gesture to the fact that it’s the last day of the year, and the beginning of a new one, and all that. Most people make New Year’s Resolutions. This year, I’m making a New Year’s Demand. Attention Universe: This year, I want a boyfriend. I know we’re all supposed to be self-sufficient, independent, fully-formed human beings here, without need nor want of a relationship and happy to be single, but: fuck that. I am self-sufficient, independent and fully-formed. I’m intelligent and happy and a generally well-rounded character. But I also happen to be a human being, and as such, a social creature. A creature that desires relationships and intimacy. And next year, I want those desires fulfilled. I should probably be asking for the strength to maintain good friendships, to work to the best of my abilities, to write a brilliant thesis, but: fuck that. I can do that all on my own. I can grab that with my own two hands. I don’t need the Universe’s intervention on that. What I do need its intervention in, however, is my love-life. Because it’s shite. And I’m sick of that. I can’t do anymore than I am doing now, which is being pleasant and sociable and as pretty as I can be. I won’t go out to clubs and get trashed just to meet a guy, because any guy I do meet there won’t be right for me. I won’t dress any differently to how I do now because that won’t be right for me. I won’t behave any differently to how I do now because any guy who falls for that won’t be falling for me. Apparently, this desperate clinging to my sense of self precludes me from meeting anyone new without some sort of divine intervention, so I’m asking the closest thing to a divine being that I believe in : and that’s the Universe, at large. I fancy that if I want something bad enough, if I wish for it and pray for it and concentrate on it enough, it will happen. I’m doing everything I can, Universe, it’s time for you to step in and meet me halfway. Because I want a boy. And I’m not ashamed of that. Anyway: everyone, have a lovely New Years Eve, and may all your own New Year’s Demands be fulfilled. I will be at a party in Balmain with my best shoes on and my hair all pretty. I plan to have fun.
|