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No good answers for poorly asked questions

“So, why aren’t you dating someone? Why haven’t you met someone yet?”

I hate that question. It comes to me, often, from well-meaning friends, absentminded yet caring coworkers, anxious parents and gentle doyennes.

I get it in supermarkets, in gyms, at the park, while pumping gas, via text message, e-mail, and carrier pigeon–

Why. Why not? Why not yet? What are you waiting for? 

As if, as if, after all this time, as if it is a choice. As if it is a deliberate action on my part, a snipe on my bit, to remain alone (not lonely, no! never lonely) and without partner in a world, in my world, which has been designed, most fundamentally so, for partnership.

Why. Why not? Don’t you know how? Don’t you know how? Don’t you know how to love?

As if, as if I am defective, or that I have some secret sin, harbor some hidden failing so vast and profound as not even be speakable in good company. Oh, there must be something wrong (read: something broken) inside of me, something that can be sensed in the cut of my eyes, the twist of my lips, the jut of my chin.

I tire. I tire of the question. I tire of the failure on my part that is not a failure, not really, it just hasn’t happened yet, I just haven’t met anyone yet, not the right person, not that right time, but regardless, it feels as if it is a failing.  An absolute one. Something most unbecoming.

I tire. I tire of the search and of the waiting. I tire of the wanting and the loss of hope.

I am tired of having no good answer to poorly asked questions.


About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.


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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

July 2015
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