Wheels

I must admit I've become quite comfortable with my 3rd, 5th, 7th-wheel status. Not saying I like it, just that I seem to have made peace with it ... to a certain extent. Since I spend so much of my time with couples and, currently, have few single friends to hang with, being the odd girl out isn't as rough as it used to be, or as it would be for someone who was part of a pair but isn't anymore.

If it sounds, however, that I've moved into the realm of complacency about the whole thing, then I'm not expressing myself well. I suppose I'm in denial about just how much I hate going to game night and being the extra player. Or having to paddle alone 'cause I don't have a canoe partner. Or strolling down to the beach amidst a gaggle of hand-holding pairs, listening to them sigh about how lovely & wonderful it all is while I try to laugh about rotic "romantic-without-the-man" experiences. But after 40 years of rotic nights, it's not funny. It just sucks.

Still, I act like it doesn't--& even convince myself it's all perfectly fine--'cause that seems to be what people want to hear. Besides, would I really want to go to game night & complain about being an extra? Isn't it far better to enjoy each experience as it is, even if a part of my heart is holding out for something more, someday? When I'm with family & friends, I can choose to live & laugh in the moment even though I know--deep, deep down--that I'll be crying in my pillow later that night.

I know this post is all up & down & over the place, but that seems to be how life is for this single, over-40 chick. Guess you could say that's just how I roll. . . .