Probably about 20 years ago by my reckoning.
So. There I was last night, picking up my lovely pizza. They could have put on more olives, but still a lovely supper. Of course, then I went to buy a coke to have with the pizza and that’s where I unearthed an actual A&W root beer. Which brought the memories flooding back in spades. Not bad ones, not even painful ones, just memories of the good times, the first times, the bygone times.
The memories are not the reason for this post though.
The pizza shop I prefer to use has been there, in that same spot since I moved in here 6 million years ago. The same proprietor, the same family, albeit slightly smaller and younger kids. Good looking husband, good looking wife – used to see him drop his kids off at the high school next to my kids’ high school.
Time passed. I’ve not had a lot of money spent on take aways these past few years, and I have not dropped any kids off anywhere for the past 5 years or so, so I have not been to this shop in a while, but last night I did go there.
Saw dad, somewhat greyer than I remembered, mom, still as beautiful, albeit with a bit more make up, kids all grown up and an especially gorgeous young man for a son. The daughters both good looking chicks, all sitting around the table in the corner, talking about whatever. With mom and dad.
Looked like quite a happy family.
And then I realised.
What I want in life, I can’t have. Simply because I’m just too old.
It’s been said that women always want the bad guys. And dudes can’t understand why. I’ve come up with a theory about that. Women equate bad guys with being strong. A good provider, a shelter, somebody that can protect them. And the sperm is likely to produce strong offspring. And that’s why women go for bad boys – because they think those guys are strong enough to do what needs to be done – call it hormonal conditioning. Just a theory mind, but going on that.
All those things are what your hormones act on in the event of meeting a prospective partner. I don’t think it’s a conscious decision, just something that happens on cellular level.
But me, I don’t need any of that. I’ve been alone for so long that I’m hard pressed to even like most men, let alone find them physically attractive for whatever reason – unfortunately they themselves have conditioned me that way.
Should I meet somebody that I can stand in my personal space for longer than a few hours, why would we ever sit around a table with my or his kids and be a happy family? It’s more likely to be a bloodbath than happy family time.
That’s why I say, the things I really want, can’t be had because that ship has indeed sailed on a long time ago.
It’s the kind of thing that my children’s father and I should have been for each other. The kind of thing we should have done right from the start. We should have forged a conclave of our own. A place where we could be protected from the outside influences of life.
We never did though, and now it’s too late. Don’t get me wrong though – I have absolutely no wish to have any kind of connection with the ex. I’m not wishing for him to come back to me and then we’ll be a lovely little family – that ship has also sailed. When we had the time and the opportunity, we did not take it. We were too busy with other things.
And now, when I see things like that, I realise that I want it still. I want to be part of somebody’s life in more ways than just the sometime or in between times or maybe’s. I want to share my hopes and dreams and fears with somebody that will share those same things with me. But he older you get, the less likely it becomes.
Since I don’t just want it with anybody. I really want it with my dude. The only one that I managed to love with more than just a bit of my heart. The one person that was not just an infatuation. The one person that looked at me in all my dubious glory and still called me the woman of his dreams.
And that ship has also sailed.
Slowly, but surely, I’m getting closer to acceptance of my single status. Every day that passes, I’m realising more and more that what I want is likely not quite possible. And that I should accept it – not accepting it is just making me more sad than I really need to be.
You should not dream of white picket fences when you’re pushing the half century mark. Those things are for the young ones. The ones that has their whole lives ahead of them. The ones still innocent and naive enough to think anything can last. Let them have the chemistry, the hormones, the life I never had – they deserve to at least try and get it right the first time around.
Maybe one day, I’ll meet a stranger’s eyes across a crowded room and have that wonderfully exiting butterfly effect. Maybe I won’t.
For the nonce I’ll just stick to what I do best – be a hermit. If chance visits me, I’ll accept it with open arms. If not, I’ll still be relatively happy here in my Ghia cave.
have a good Saturday peeps!