How I Married My Mother

Wondering if the vote on Prop 8 was reversed?

Fear not: it is still illegal to marry "any consenting adult" in the great state of California - family members being no exception. Instead, I am writing to speak of the metaphorical union in which my mother became my unsupporting, nagging, outspoken pseudo-wife. What I want is an actual husband, so that I can be my son's mother. But until that time arrives I have dutifully resolved to spending my weeks compartmentalizing activities in the same fashion most men do in order to keep my sanity, which is also healthy for my son in my megalomaniacal opinion (for any old school blog readers still "spacing" it and not "facing" it, I did indeed make up another word).

side note: I too will join the mass exodus from myspace to facebook when I can figure out how to disable the facebook application requests and move my blogs.

Cutting back to the previous paragraph, I'd settle for a pseudo-husband at this point. But in this lifetime, I never intended to have a pseudo-wife. I get that chick-on-chick action gets some of you all worked up, but I am no lesbian; most women drive me absolutely insane. It is for this very reason I ask you all to pray that God provide me with a husband, before I file for divorce and head for sunny, sunny Mexico with my alimony & child support.

How did this happen? A year after moving back into my own place, my own home, having space and less "accountability", suddenly it's "you never have time to talk to me", "what I do isn't important to you", "you are never flexible with me", "while I'm at home raising YOUR son, (insert anything here), "I have a life too"...and the list goes on. I have a newfound sympathy for fathers. [Please don't read into the debate for which comes first: family or career. This is not a "cat's in the cradle" movement] How is it fair that I seem to be married and yet have absolutely no sex, never have dinner on the table waiting for me, press my own shirts (or am responsible for that despite the fact that it never gets done), and have a constant nag reminding me that I’m (in one person or another’s opinion) a shitty parent?







Funny, I thought the luxury of not being married is that I should not have to deal with those issues? Guess that’s what happens when I assume…