pique

Gloria Steinem once said, “We are becoming the men we wanted to marry.”

Perhaps due to lack of options, I did, over the decades, become the man I wanted to marry.  I became well-educated, well-read, and well-travelled and lived in several different cities as well as abroad.  I learned to partner dance and play tennis, I tried a bit of surfing and boxing, and I generally kept myself physically fit.  I engaged with the world and developed opinions and accompanied myself to events ranging from the intellectual to the outrageous.  Had I known I would end up single, I would have pursued a less stable but more exciting career field, but nonetheless, I have had some enviable jobs and have developed some measure of financial security, including property ownership.

I will now confess a dark secret:  sometimes I look at my Facebook profile and launch into a fit of pique that no man I’ve ever “friended” or “messaged” has pursued me romantically.  Just last week I messaged two men with nada in return, restoring my sense of umbrage.

This being the first time in my life when I seem to hold myself in higher esteem than others do– hell, I want to date me!– I suppose all I can do is poke fun at my inflamed sense of injustice.