Singlehood - not a trauma this time

My posts tend to be very long and don't even bother having the courtesy of a funny LOLCat picture.  For that, I apologize.  But then, nobody reads this blog, so it's all moot.


I posted a(n incredibly) long post, by now deleted, called something like "I'll Never Marry" or "Why I'll Never Marry." Self-explanatory, anyway.  Nobody knows who I am, so I have to write posts a la "This is The Kind of Person I Am," and wanted to make it clear that perpetually single was one of my traits.


Then somebody at slate.com summed it for me (slightly edited): "I am content, happy...and so NOT inclined to share my space. I would never be able to accommodate a man's presence, make compromises."

The person who wrote it had been describing a life in a bad marriage before dating in her 50s, so I edited out the references to that.  I've never been in a relationship and, in my mid-40's, would consider it a huge upheaval in my life to even have a discussion about what kind of couch to get for the living room.  Never mind things like setting aside man-caves and whatnot.  Every millimeter of wherever I live is my woman-cave, and carefully planned as such.  Not that I'm a neat-freak.  Quite the opposite.  I'm a total slob who has little interest in changing my ways.  Imagine the "fun" I'd have with a man who had even the slightest interest in tidying up the kitchen counter or dining room table.  No jury would convict me if I killed the person who simply gathered up my piles of stuff and tossed it all, thinking I wouldn't notice.  It would be self-defense, no doubt.  I once "joked" to my mother that I'd consider living with a man, if he had no possessions.  She took me seriously and started explaining that people have possessions, and it's all about compromise and sharing and it's a good thing I have an iPad loaded with games.

Sex has never been an issue for me, per whichever post I wrote before, because I've never been interested in it.  My oldest sister reacted predictably to my declaration of asexuality: start asking me questions to determine its "cause," because nobody is asexual without there being some emotional or physical trauma.  Just ask anyone who isn't asexual.  It's totally obvious.

Do I worry about dying alone, my rotting carcass only discovered when the neighbors start smelling something that's kind of like a rotting carcass?  And then a funeral that nobody attends because nobody would know  whom to call?  I do ponder such things at times.  But then, most couples don't die at the exact same moment, so either way, one of us would be alone at the time.  And I'd prefer not finding a guy just so I have my funeral arrangements covered.  The in-between stuff wouldn't be worth it.

Anyway, that's so me:  find a few sentences to sum up my feelings exactly, then keep going for many paragraphs afterwards, as though I'm adding to it.  I'd just be the most irritating wife, wouldn't I??