| "What do I have to say?” by J. A. Stroud What do I have to say? Not much. I don’t know the joy and sorrow of being a parent. I’m single, so what can I say about marriage? I wouldn’t call my “job” a career, so that topic is out. I doubt anyone wants to read about the Saturday’s I spend with my mother and brother driving around looking for the newest restaurants in the valley. (We are an eating family.) Or how after we have eaten our fill and gone back to their home, how I sneak the remote control as they nap, belly’s full and content. It’s the only time I can turn the channel from sports, or the insipid nature shows Mom likes to sleep through. And who wants to read about the computer game my brother and I faithfully play together every evening, from our respective homes. Or how dear he is to keep my game character alive when we are being attacked from all around, and how he lets me pick up all the gold (cuz he knows that when I do die in the game, I lose my gold). And how he even gives me the best armor and helps me decide what skills to choose for my game character. No one really cares about how the roomie (she’s single too) and I plan our evenings around what’s on the tellie and whine when all the programs we like are reruns. Or how we groan when we get up off the sofa, or recliner because we are getting old (er). Who needs to know that we are getting forgetful in our dotage, and seem to repeat ourselves far too often - retelling the same story from our work day that we told in the car on the way home from work? Or how the pizza from the night before is stilling visiting our digestive track, and who is the first to say, “Whose idea was that(!) for dinner?” And no one wants to listen to us bitch about how the USA is going to hell in a hand basket - without a handle, and how she and I worry about what Social Security is going to be like for us in a few years. And as we cruise the grocery store (secretly looking for single men our age) and planning the meals for the next week, who cares that we fight over who gets to push the cart, because our hips hurt from the cold? And I know we all have those female friends who seem to constantly become entrenched in relationships with men who treat them like crap (which often goes to remind me to be grateful that I am single) and how all they can do is the “poor me” routine - “why does he treat me like that?” - or - “I wish I knew what he wanted so I could give it to him.” God forbid that they wake up and really give it to him! Or those married friends who complain how their husbands aren’t as romantic as they were years ago, but fail to mention how much their husbands love the heck out of them and have never strayed from home. And we won’t go into those friends who, after their miserable attempts to fix you up with their cousins, nephews roommate, still try to find that perfect mate for you. So you see … I really don’t have anything to say. ‘Cept, … that I wouldn’t trade my life, such as it is. It may not be awe inspiring to anyone other than me, but it is damn fine, and it’s mine. And that’s what I have to say about that! |
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