So, anyway…

Those just might be the two worst words in the english language. Because it usually comes right after a much needed break in a very lengthy and/or boring conversation.

Annoying Talkie Person: “Blah blah da blah blah de blah doo dah blah blah….” (and so on).

Me: “uh-huh. Yes. I see. Of course. mm hmm (much external nodding and internal eye-rolling going on).

Annoying Talkie Person: “blah blah blah blabbity blab blab blah blah…” and the hell continues.

Then suddenly, due to some outside influence or perhaps the distracted mind of the talkie person, there is a break, a silence, and the music swells and there you see it, freedom, bliss, peace and rainbows and pretty flowers GO GO RUN FOR IT! and you manage to extract yourself from the conversation, yipee you scream in your head, and you find yourself involved in something else entirely, something much more pleasing and enjoyable, like maybe burning your toes with a lighter.

But then the music turns somber and menacing and before you can react, Annoying Talkie Person is behind you and you hear:
“So, anyway…”

and you’re sucked back in, bye bye rainbows and candy and fun and pretty colors and fresh air.

Now, that being said, I will acknowledge the numerous postings on this very site with those exact words. But it’s in a quiet context and that phrase is not nearly as cringeworthy when you’re merely reading it. Everyone is free to click off whenever they want, before they ever get to the so anyway portion of the show.

I think you would all agree with me.

Earlier today, my boy was looking an awful lot like the lead singer of Radiohead. Maybe my dream for thom yorke’s love child came true last night while I was sleeping! Maybe, just maybe. It is the time of miracles after all, right? Virgins and baby jesuses, oil lamps burning for all those extra nights, rock bottom prices on the season’s hottest tech toys, Mariah Carey’s Grammy nominations and of course the continued existence of Pamela Anderson’s “comedy” on Fox. It’s the time of miracles alright.

Speaking of scary, floating around me are talks, rumors, stories, possibilites of a ring. A ring for me. A ring that says “we’re getting married!” A kind of ring that a girl in my situation might be wanting, might in fact be longing for and wishing after. Let’s thank our lucky stars I am not that girl.

G says his mother keeps telling him I really need a ring; he really needs to get me a ring this Christmas, that it’s time. I told him I don’t need a ring. I told him I’m not a ringy kind of girl. I told him there’s no money for a ring. I told him do not get me a ring.

He says, “you’re afraid of commitment.” I say, “We are together, we have a baby, that’s enough, that’s about all we can handle.” He says, “Maybe she’s right, maybe it’s time.” And I say, “No no, she isn’t right, it’s not time. There is no money. No money for a ring. My fingers are too fat for rings. There are no rings for me.”

So yeah, I’m a bit freaked out. I made it clear to him that I don’t want a ring, to ignore his mother and listen to me. Because that is a situation I absolutely positively do not want to deal with right now. Because if he gets me a ring, then I have to give an answer, and I’m not going there. repeat: I am not going there. There are only two possible answers when someone gives you a ring, and neither one fills me with much excitement.

His mother might think I want a ring because I made the mistake of telling her that in certain situations, to strangers, I have referred to his family as my “in-laws” and I have even referred to him as my husband. Because sometimes it’s just easier to do that. In certain situations. Of course, the second I said this and saw her eyes light up with pleasure and satisfaction, I knew my big fat stupid mouth went too far.

What is it with people and marriage? They just love it. They love it so much. And you know, that’s fine by me. Really it is. Great for them. Fantastic! Happy beautiful marriage! Let the whole world join in holy matrimony. But leave me alone about it, okay? Seriously. You go your sacred and wedded way and let me go my merry indecent and blasphemous way. Please.

I’ve heard it said before, “well, you’re just not interested in marrying G, that’s all. If you met the RIGHT guy, you’d want to get married. It’s only natural.” And to this I say: shut up. Because it doesn’t matter. Because some other guy, right or not, isn’t wanting to marry me. Because some other guy isn’t the father of my baby. Because the reality is I’m in a relationship with G, we have a warm sweet, gorgeous baby and I do not want to get married. End of story. There’s no right guy, there’s no wrong guy, there’s just me and him and our son. That’s how it is right now and I don’t need a ring or old-fashioned mothers trying to fool with something that could so easily break under too much pressure.

Now can someone please give me broadband before I die. PLEASE.

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