Sometimes I suck at being in a relationship. Or having a partner. Or being one. Especially being one. Sometimes I suck at spending time with any person while at the same moment sucking at being alone. Sometimes I’m a miserable bastard. Sometimes I’m needy. Sometimes I’m angry for no reasons. Sometimes I’m all the colours of the dykorific rainbow in one.
It sounds like the I’m a bitch I’m a lover song by that horrible woman. Well. Maybe. My mom IMed me today and said, “You know, you haven’t told me what it’s like for you to be part of a couple.” And I thought, yeah. Well. I’m not good at it, am I? It’s not something I sing songs about.
It’s not about love. I love her to death. And it’s not about her at all. I’m 28 and I’ve been alone most of my life. Not a bad kind of alone, the kind of alone about which one goes “aw” or “fuck, what a whiner”. Just normal aloneness. Some people have a million people in their lives all the time. Some people don’t. I didn’t. So the day-to-day of partnership is weird. And I’m bad at it.
I don’t know why I feel like I need to blog abut it. Or that anyone will be interested. It’s not about The Struggle or anything. I’m not being especially interesting as the Pakistani Muslim dyke today. I’m just, you know, me. Like this only.
I should talk about sex, maybe. That’s always entertaining.