I am single. Lately it has been crossing my mind because it has been forever and a day since I had a lover. Yeah, I have had many an offer. There are the horny homeless men who promise to take me into their cardboard box and take me no where. Pickup lines include, “Girl, I wanna rip that shit up.”
Then there are the fan letters I get. Most are lovely,but every once in a while I get one that is special to say the least. One man wrote me that he pictured himself standing outside my window watching me take my clothes off. Note to self, he is probably purchasing a ski mask somewhere as we speak. Perhaps chloroform too. For the most part I avoid dating fans. It just is sticky. Plus there is a part of me that likes the fact they write letters to the person they want me to be, not the person I actually am. Yeah, I am kinda boring. The girl on youtube, stage, and television isn’t. The girl who writes books is pretty and smart. More often than not I chew pebbles and wonder why they are crunchy. Yeah, I ruined my own illusion there.
Of course there are the dudes, the real ones, that are actually worth something. They are a dime a dozen. More often than not I scare them off. Some of it is my career choice and the fact I am never around. Then there is the fact that I am quite independent, I don’t need a man. Oh, and then I have a life that would kill most people so they are kind of out.
The thing about relationships is at the beginning they are like a Disney movie. Everyone is skipping around in love with the idea of being in love. Prince Charming is still a cartoon. He has still saved me. He is perfect in every way. Oh, and so much better than the last evil magician that trapped me in his castle aka my ex. The absolute spirit animal without any flaws, I find myself planning the wedding and then purchasing the cemetery plots side by side in the first week. Is it psychotic, yeah. But I am a woman. No, I don’t actually do it. I am kidding but you get the just of what I am saying. (Amy Schumer did it for real on her show though).
Hey, the dudes are asking themselves, “Wow, she looks hot. Does she do anal?” So I am allowed to have some evil plans of my own thank you very much.
The honeymoon ends though. Happily ever after is when the book closes and shit becomes real. We all transform into our true asshole, selfish fuck face selves. Gone is the wizened version of Prince Charming and here he is replaced by a real man. Yeah, he has his good points but he also has faults and flaws. Good new is, so do I. Yes, I have relationship issues. Yes, those damn pesky things. The Baby Ruth in a swimming pool. I know I should cut myself a break because my partner is less than perfect himself. Still when my issues come out, it is a test.Their issues come out too. Here’s the rub, sometimes our issues are like gasoline and fire making a shit mess of everything in a catastrophic explosion.
At the beginning a dude likes a smart female companion until she is smarter than him, especially in front of his friends. A dude also likes a woman with political passions, until she tells his best friend what a fucking dumbass he is. I have done this too. The activist is fun until she is fighting, biting your head off, and then some. Many don’t understand my need to continually speak out against dating violence, especially the men I date. They wonder why I “can’t get over it.” Worse yet, they label me a man hater and want to be the one who rocks my world and is different. Make me want to fucking vomit. Or then there is my work as a teaching artist to the artistically underserved children in bad neighborhoods and drug addicts in rehab centers. There are the dudes who’s idiot friends quip that my work could get me robbed. Maybe it could, but I do it because these people need a voice and they matter. Then they say I should let my man be a man, and that I don’t appreciate him as a man and all that happy horse shit. That my job is just to sit there and suck his dick as I wait on him hand and foot. Homeboy please.
If we are able to survive that hurdle it’s whether I can survive their crap. Yes, I am talking family members that should be out of a horror movie mixed with dark comedic elements. I have enough of those, what makes you think I want yours? Or then there is their familial drama. I have my own, again I don’t want yours. I understand you have a few family members that have tested the judicial system or have done drug treatment. So have I. That doesn’t mean I am comfortable with them sleeping on your couch and using me as a job reference. And then there is your female friend. Yes, the one who was such a slut she is no longer allowed in Ann Arbor because she slept her way through the whole town so now she is rooming with you. You know, the one that wants you and kicked her dog down the stairs to get your attention. She gives me the creeps and I don’t know how she has so much sex cause she is ugly. No wonder your alcoholic father beat you. I would drink and beat you if you were my kid too. Yeah, your mother emasculated you. But you are an adult. Grow a pair, Sir.
Yeah, there’s the door. Don’t let it hit you in the ass.
On top of that I love my space and hate when people get too close to me. I like having my life my own, and once you have a lover you have to share that with someone else. Translated, they know everything. Men are sore losers and more often than not use it against you when they can. A few of my exes have. Then again it was the honeymoon before I got to know Casanova Brown. Yes, before we broke up and I had the town painted red with my name by McFuckhead McPhee.
My part in this is the petty shit makes me insecure. I hide the stupidest crap because I am that scared of rejection when most of the time it is no big deal. For instance, I am not the best house keeper. My stove scares me so I am a microwave cook. Sometimes I forget to wear deodorant because I am in a hurry. I am deathly afraid of dogs but am getting better. I really am quite lame, love nonfiction documentaries, and am pretty much a homebody. I hate loud parties with lots of noise, and many of the personalities there overwhelm me. I am a nondrinker and yes, most of the time I hate your friends. I really don’t get along with other women at first, so don’t match me with your boy’s girl. Most of the time I am all feelings and raw emotion, which is my best and worst quality all in one. Oh and I am pretty awkward too. So much for cool, chic, and pretty. I also have a shitload of trust issues and know you will cheat so go fuck the beef cookie please.
I picture it in my mind. Everyone who has ever dated me is gathered at a table. Yes, they let some of them out of prison and drug rehab for this occasion. They are talking shit about me and our time together. They are talking about my intimacy, trust, and commitment issues. They are talking about how it ended like a grenade explosion. If anyone knows where the meeting is happening, let me know so I can purposely avoid the location. There is one ex that won’t be present. His current partner will be there. She will have a chart with my outline, highlighting the kill points on my person. Hey, she has been ranting about hating me for nearly eighteen months. Glad she is taking some action.
Either way, I don’t think I will be getting into a relationship anytime soon. My trash romance novels and my fake flames will fuck my brains out in my mind’s eye. I will rip my blood and guts out on paper, onstage, and in my videos.
I haven’t met a person worthy of them yet.
I Came, I Saw, I Sang:Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Come see me for my DVD taping April 22nd at 7pm
Metropolitan Room 34 W. 22nd st