The other day I saw on Facebook someone who once flirted with me. They look good. Like, ridiculously good. Like special order, deliver to my house good.
But seeing this has now prompted several days of being depressed for me. Because I couldn't tell you the last time someone flirted with me, or liked me, or even noticed me. I don't have many what I'd call "girly" moments, but I have fallen into a spiral of them, and they've led to depression.
Because I'm 38. And I haven't had a date in 5 years. And I haven't been in a relationship in 12. And frankly, that's just fucking depressing.
When I was younger, I dated a lot. Did I use up my quota? For a while I had a hell of a track record- people dated me, and then the very next person they dated they married. I should have made a business out of it. And we're not talking one or two, we're talking like five. It was not good for my self-esteem, the question of "what was wrong with me?" came up a lot in my inner voice.That same little, shrill voice is back.
When I was younger, I was bereft if I wasn't with someone. I got over that. I have gone to school. I have earned degrees, I have bought a house and taken care of my mom. I in short, have grown up. And while it's not a popular thought with grown, adult, feminists, these days I find myself very tired.
I'm tired of having to worry about everything by myself.
Of not having anyone share the load so I can take a break or rest.
Of not having any one in my corner.
Of not having support.
Of just not having anyone.
It would be nice to have someone to share things with, both the load that comes with the bad things, and the joy that comes with the good.
Maybe this is it. Maybe at this point it's time to face the fact that I'm going to be single the rest of my natural life. Maybe I should stop daydreaming and deal with the reality of life and get over it.
And that may all be true. This may be what being a grown up is. But I am a daydreamer. I like to imagine a better life, a different life. A happy ending. The movie ending where I come home and he's sitting there waiting for me, having come for me because he couldn't bear to be away from me one second longer.
So maybe I'll drag myself out of this depression and refocus on work. Because while burying yourself in your work may not be healthy, it at least occupies your time.
Or maybe I'll daydream a little longer. A little daydreaming never hurt anyone, right? For a little while I think I'll just pretend that Stiles is talking just to me.