Married to My Novel

A dating site commercial was just on.  The tagline was “Why not?” and was supported by several women saying things like “Why not go on a first date?  Put yourself out there?”  Blah, blah, blah.

Well, I’m single.  And when my hormones are reminding me that western media culture has spent my life brainwashing me to believe that the state of “single woman” is a fate worse than bedbugs, I’m desperately single.  And I’m getting kind of tired of being the fifth wheel when my family goes out.  (I was at a zombie walk with my sister and brother-in-law shortly before they got married, and they turned to each other at one point and said their “I love you”s.  Me, being the good ol’ Third Wheel, I said “I love zombie walks!”  Yeeup, I’m that classy.)

So why don’t I hop on that dating site and give it a whirl?

Because dating sucks.  S-U-C-K-S.  The awkwardness, the nervousness, the terrible jokes and mismatched senses of humor.  The white lies, the neediness, the manipulations, the expectations.  The saying “Yeah, I had a great time too” while thinking “How the hell do I get out of this with my dignity intact?”  The promises to call when you never intend to.  The creepers, the clingers, the know-it-alls.  Ehh…I’d rather spend my time and energy writing.

Don’t get me wrong: being in a loving, committed relationship is a beautiful thing.  It’s just the bit between “single” and “taken” that’s awful. If I could press a button and skip over the dating mess, I’d happily do it.

But even if I was in a serious relationship, a part of me would still feel bad, because I’ve been in a relationship with my novel for many years.  I’m basically married to the damn thing.

My novel is the only one that really understands my particular brand of Crazy.  It doesn’t get freaked out when I stare off into the distance and mutter to myself.  It just waits calmly when inspiration strikes, and I bolt off in another direction entirely. It’s okay with spending the day just hanging out, grooving to tunes or reading.  It understands when I lose my mind because a particular sentence isn’t sounding right.  And I’m just as dedicated to the growth and development of the novel.  

So I’ve decided that if I ever do sell my manuscript for publication, I’m going to use the money to buy myself a ring.  Make it all official and whatnot.  And I’m staying off the dating sites for the time being.  

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