marriage + kids + home = suburban death

i've noticed friends and friends of friends who are simply boring me to tears while being self-righteous about my single and free life.

question: "when are you getting married?"
answer: "none of your fucking business. and why do i need to get married? so i can get caught up in exciting discussions like which formula is the best to use?"

i have friends who are married living in little condos and houses that are replicas of each other, absorbed in their work and "making our marriage work" and waxing their cars and shopping at wal-mart and feeling giddy with two glasses of wine at dinner. that's the first step.

the second step is when they have children. i have two pregnant friends right now who are seemingly normal and i don't think they'll become the lunatics i despise so much. in fact, i know that they will always be cool. i have heard horror stories about this but i am holding out for them because i love them dearly. but i know people who have children. they can't go anywhere without talking about their children. they worry when they are away from them, they constantly discuss their children (as if i fucking care? i know you don't care about my cat so i keep that to myself, but i love my cat a lot and i don't bore you with how she is liking her new litter and the really cute way in which she sips water). library school was dreadful; the mothers were clueless on their identity and would simply cite their children's preference for specific books, as if that decided whether a book is a caldecott winner or not. parents: do us a favor--SHUT UP.

the house step is slightly different. it can become before or after the second step. you can be normal, like my old coworker libby, and look at heaps of different apartments. but then, libby lives in brooklyn and is cool. no, i'm talking about the people who move out to the land of backyards, strip malls, and even good old fashioned malls themselves! they talk about school systems, playgrounds, suvs, washing machines. they talk about grout, about their gutters and leaf-covered lawns, about stock options and mortgages. as if i care? shut up and move someplace exciting, like new york city. but wait, we don't want boring people here.

question: "when are you going to get married to t? you've been together for seven years."
answer: "none of your fucking business. i'm perfectly happy living my single new york city life."

there was a time when i thought about marriage, but i don't feel like i need it so desperately. i love t, but we have a very free relationship in many ways. last night i went out with one of my oldest friends, rachelle, and dressed up in a tiny tube top, bubble wrap and sparkley pants for a party where i drank, danced, and met so many people. the "normal" couples wore jeans, held hands tightly, and looked uncomfortable at the freedom of the singletons on the dance floor. t probably doesn't think of me as single but when he is not around i feel like i am (although i do not behave badly!) with different men approaching me. instead, i use these experiences as a way of learning about new people. i danced with a former londoner and also, an actor who taped empty milk cartons to his entire body. with loud music, glitter and confetti everywhere, drunken kisses, vodka shots from a watergun, it was a night to stay out until last call and sway your way home with a walk filled with conversation about nearly everything.

i'm not in a rush for anything. and if i do get married, i am not rushing out to book a hall, make my friends dress in identical hideous dresses, spend heaps of money. what i'd love to do really is hop several planes to a remote south pacific island and do something totally romantic and fun. or go to brazil and dance drunkenly in the streets of rio. something fucking tradition. tradition is nice but there is no fucking way i will becoming wife to some man. i am me, i am free, and i am having a fucking brilliant time.

enjoy your suburban death; i'll keep my comments to myself (on here) and be polite to your face. now won't you do the same?