That Guy.

Now that I find myself in my mid to late thirties without the ability to procreate I am at ever growing odds with those of my peers that still do.  Especially women.  Women in their thirties who are pregnant or have very young children are far crazier than I have ever been (including while on recreational drugs) and will ever yet be.  They completely lose their sense of humour.  I happen to be completely against overpopulation as an aside and I have always been fairly vocal about this both in person with my friends and on social media.  Though, I do have a sense of humour about things and like to cobble together little jokes and memes on facebook about not having children.  About how it saves money and stress.  I’m that guy.

I know that for the most part the average person looks at me and probably thinks that I’m a freak.  That I am unusual.  That I am a man in his late thirties dating a twenty-two year old, living an apparent bachelor life while spending his money on designer luxury items.  I’ll tell you this:  It’s really nice not to have a bunch of cheap, broken shit covered in dirt and snot.  It’s nice to have sex with someone with no stretchmarks who is utterly obsessed with me.  There’s another thing, my girlfriend is five foot eleven and weighs a hundred and thirty pounds.  She’s a very slender girl but genetically so.  I found myself becoming bored with her and now I feel guilty because truthfully she is a total blessing.  For all intents and purposes my life is perfect.  Except it isn’t.

Back to the original point, baby crazy thirty-something women.  I would put this on a scale of somewhere between dysphoric dementia and schizophrenia, or a cocktail of the two.  Pregnant women, specifically in their thirties are completely unreasonable, somewhere past the bridezilla level of berzerk.  I’m talking about women that I have known for a long time, that I have history with.  Women that I have trusted, who have trusted me (even though I was unusual).  So it comes as kind of a blow when interacting as per usual with them and joking as we would when suddenly things take a dramatic turn for the fucking psychotic and I wind up in never talking to you ever again territory.  I’m not totally surprised, hormones and such.  I just wish that this was a recognised thing.  I’m okay with never talking to them again as well.  If you can’t reign it in long enough not to make permanent decisions while you are on a constant PMS cycle I think never talking to you again is just peachy.

Back to how I’m that guy.  How my life should be perfect but isn’t.  I see my girlfriend only on the weekends because I live out in the middle of nowhere, which is where she originally is from.  Except she lives in the nearest major center for work which is two hours away.  Not that big a deal but not worth a daily commute.  I live with three other guys which would be alright seeing as we pay very little to live here except the original signer has his wife here on certain weekends and if I have sex in the house at those times she hears it.  Upon hearing this she freaks out and needs to drive back to her house which is also in the nearest major center… No joke.  At midnight, rather than knock on the door and say: “Hey, we can hear you.”  She makes her husband drive her two hours away without saying a word to me.  We are adults for fucks sake.  I pay rent for a room in a house.  A room that has walls and a door.  If you hear sex, either ignore it, turn on some light music or honestly just go fuck yourself because I really don’t care.  The rent is paid.  The young guy above me fucks in his room and I don’t complain.  If you are this sensitive I think that you probably shouldn’t be married.

I’ve always been a passionate person.  I’m not simply talking about love-making here.  I am talking about the things in which I believe and those things I defend.  The causes for which I fight.  There are times when I rant and go into diatribes, kick up a fuss over things.  I do this because I care about these things.  It makes me sad that people don’t see it this way.  They only see anger and vitriol.  What they don’t realize is that the worst place to be is failing miserably when the people who care the most are silent.  Because when the people who care for you are silent they have given up on you.  When I am ranting about women’s rights or marriage equality it’s because I haven’t given up.  I am a friend and an ally.  Yet I think that people genuinely just see the frustration and assume that I’m an angry asshole.  Which sometimes might actually be true.  Worse still is the glaring silence I receive from everyone else.  Good thing the medication works or I would be dead.  Guaranteed.

More toward ranting, I noticed that I am so in the habit of attaching myself to negative thoughts about things that I dislike that I won’t allow myself to stop.  I am perpetually bouncing from one subject to the other writing diatribes in my head.  Because of this and the way I function I am utterly cut off.  I am difficult to be around.  I am alone.  Some, maybe even most of the time I don’t care.  Except that when I do it matters more than anything in the world.  I have dug a moat around myself and made it impossible for anyone to be close to me.  Partially because I am so habitually negative from the former depression but also from the fear that they will discover that I am hollow.  This is somewhat revelatory for me.  Perhaps this is cliché?

I see the Internet exploding with ‪#‎semicolonproject‬ and at first it seems like a great idea. I would run out and get mine too except that it’s a little too much like eternally visibly branding yourself with a very detrimental psychological disorder. Which you might be trying to raise awareness for, though people are still going to be judgemental and distrustful of you. Especially seeing as you are saying out loud “at one time I very nearly killed myself”. That’s not really something one announces to people they don’t know.
I like the concept but I pity those who are putting it into practice. I commiserate, but this is a stigma magnet.  Seriously think it over before getting it done, you are turning an unidentified minority into a visible minority…



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s