Hold on to your butts, folks. I feel like having myself a little rant.
Miss Havisham sez “I have had ENOUGH”
I almost didn’t write this, but I will brave the almost guaranteed troll backlash, because I seriously, SERIOUSLY cannot take this anymore. I am absolutely at the end of my rope. What am I sick of? I’ll tell you, my beloved squirrels.
I am sick to death of Smug Marrieds.
NOW! Before you zip over to the comments to call me jealous, spiteful, an old hag, ugly, fat, ugly AND fat, ugly and fat and JEST JELUS, let me say a few things. I am not talking about all marrieds. Is that clear? If you got married and remained true to your pre-married personality, I’m thrilled for you. That’s great. I hope y’all are happy as can be.
I’m talking about Smug Marrieds. You know who they are. They clog your Facebook walls and Twitter feeds with “OMG I HAVE THE BEST HUBBY EVER” or “MY AMAZING WIFE AND I ARE SO HAPPY I HAVE GLITTER DIARRHEA” or whatever. And I’m sitting there with my eye twitching and the bile rising and looking like this, only in yoga pants.
Miss Havisham sez “Bitch, plz”
I think it’s the fact that as a 35 year old singleton, most of my friends are married now. Truthfully, I’m fine with being single right now. I haven’t been on a date in almost two years, and those of you that follow the blog know that I have more than enough on my plate without involving myself in a romantic relationship. So it’s not jealousy. It’s just that I see people that used to be independent and full of personality and somewhere between the ring and the “I do’s” and sun poisoning on the honeymoon, they become pod people. They (and ugh, I’m really starting to sound like Bridget Jones here, aren’t I?) look in pity at us singletons, tut-tutting and giving unsolicited advice in between being so gross in their PDAs and pet names that I have to excuse myself and vomit up most of my major organs. They’re SMUG. And that? Drives me insane.
Miss Havisham sez “Where’s the Pepto?”
And the thing is, I have to wonder if it’s all a sham. Why would a couple do the equivalent of hitting people over the head with a flaming baseball bat covered in barbed wire by never letting us forget for a nanosecond about how happy they are, how head-explodingly perfect their lives are and don’t you worry, you sad little singleton, just when you least expect it, you’ll find The One and be as terrifyingly happy as they are. What are they hiding? What am I missing here?
I know some of you will respond with “Why are you so spiteful about other people being happy?” or perhaps
It’s true. I’m the Robin Hood of happiness.
But I’m really not. I have loads of awesome friends who married other awesome people and they are awesome together. But because they remained their own individual selves while also being married, they are a fierce TEAM, not a scary alien conjoined twin with rictus smiles who feel they need to tell me that oh, you poor thing, all alone, so sad, what you need is a MAN. See? Even YOU might be as happy as we are. Someday. Maybe. But probably not.
Eh, whatever. I guess I should just let the Smug Marrieds be. Anyway, I have to concentrate on being my own awesome self. And I’d rather think of myself as Michonne than Miss Havisham any day.
Michonne sez: “You don’t need a wedding ring, you need a KATANA”