Category: Life

Why do I get all the crazy mothers?

As a single woman, without any children – I have come to realise, that I don’t have that much of a problem relating to young mothers. I have instead, realised, that they have a major problem trying to even hold a conversation with me.

Before I take this post further, I would like to say this does not apply to all young mothers. Ok, disclaimer over – start rant.

Why do I get the impression that majority of young mothers, delivered their brains out along with their babies? “An epidural and a lobotomy, please”. I recently had the great displeasure of meeting a completely lunatic mother. There is the possibility that she was already a lunatic, prior to motherhood, but in the first five minutes of meeting me, she hit me a conversation killer, that actually left me speechless.

Crazy mother (CM) sits next to me: SO, DO YOU HAVE KIDS??? (the CAPS is to emphasise how extremely loud she was. Her baby in her arms must have been deafened)
Me: (slightly taken aback): … No, I don’t.
CM: ARE YOU MARRIED????
Me: (shifting slowly away): … No, I’m not.
CM: AND YOU’RE WORKING FROM HOME?? WHY ARE YOU WORKING FROM HOME WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE KIDS???? YOU’RE SEVERELY LIMITING YOURSELF FROM MARRIAGE!!
Me: (praying a decade of the rosary in my head): ………… Are you married?
CM: WHATTT??? OF COURSE I’M MARRIED, I DIDN’T HAVE MY CHILD OUT OF WEDLOCK
Me: It happens.
CM: OOOOHHH! I LIKE YOU! I LOVE TO TEST PEOPLE WHEN I MEET THEM!
Psycho bitch alert goes off.

So, yes, while there’s a distinct possibility that she’s always had lunatic tendencies, more often than not, young mothers open up a conversation with, “Do you have kids?”

Will this make us best friends, if I do? Are you not going to talk to me anymore if I don’t? Where do we go from this question? I did receive a slight variation once, of, “Are you a mummy?”. I swear I threw up a little bit in my mouth at that one.

The first question of the conversation almost always identifies how a person validates their life. “What do you do?” is probably the most often asked question – as a lot of people do validate themselves through their work. You don’t ask someone if they have a job, though – which is the working equivalent of asking them if they had kids. It’s fine to validate your life with your family, but please don’t assume the same of everyone. Aren’t there an infinite amount of questions you can choose to ask someone to start a conversation? “So, you have any plans for the weekend?” “Do you live around here?” “That’s an unusual name, what inspired your parents to name you that?”.

I can hold perfectly intelligent conversations with many people – but I find that young mothers lack the confidence to approach a complete stranger and spark a conversation unless it’s on this ground. Once again, this is not directed at every young mother. And yet, mothers who have kids for a while, don’t ever start a conversation that way. Young mothers who have jobs or are fulfilled in other ways, don’t start a conversation that way. So, if that’s your opening question to everyone you meet, I suggest you get a hobby.

We all know these people. Hell, some of you are those people. The Put-Downers. The people that make completely unnecessary and uncalled-for liners designed specifically to make you feel like an ass – and for them to feel like a million bucks.

I recently met a new group of people, whom asked me how long I had been freelancing for. I replied, “just over a month now” and they looked at each other, laughed and said, “Oh, just a baby”.

Now – was that completely necessary? Was that observation in any way, stated for the benefit of anyone? It certainly wasn’t for my benefit. It’s like rolling your eyes and remarking, “Oh, water is so wet”. Ok, maybe not so much that – but if you really hone in on that line (as I obviously have, given my obsessive over-thinking nature), that line clearly places me in the position of “junior”, whereas the speaker, gets to assume her throne of “senior”. By that one line, she (believes) that she has claimed the throne of alpha-female at the table.

Many years ago, I was obsessed with being the alpha-female. I had to be the one with the most logical opinions, the one with the best ideas and it wasn’t until I had more exposure in my work community, that I realised there were a lot of people with opinions and ideas – and shit, some of those ideas were better than mine. So, I learn to shut up. I also learnt to relinquish the role of alpha-female to anyone who so desperately needed it and was willing to sacrifice grace to get it. I have also accepted that I do not need to prove myself right – as long as I know it to be true, is sufficient. I have also accepted that the quality of my work and behaviour speaks in far more rich volumes than my just verbally stating it.

Until anyone can disprove my self-opinion (and I want some strong evidence on this one), I genuinely believe that I am not someone who talks out of her ass, who doesn’t go on and on about herself (except on this blog, but it’s my blog, fuckers!) and am definitely not the girl who will put someone else down, just to pick myself up. And I know this with almost absolute certainty, because – I don’t need my pick-me-ups to come from anyone else but myself. As a female, I make fun of truckload of people but always behind their back – because that’s the proper thing to do. If you don’t mock anyone, I don’t think we could be friends.

Ultimately, this happens only with women. Women hate all other women – whether they’re best friends or not. Someone has inevitably talked shit about the other person. For some reason, with my recent foray into freelancing (some might say it’s the infancy stage…), I have met some women with questionable intentions. They have said strange things that were out of place, and sometimes, out of line. However, they all boiled down to the same personality – the woman that needs to feel that she is the best – or at least, better than me. Hey, if you need that kind of validation, take it – it’s yours. I promise I won’t even put up a fight.

Over the last few months, I have definitely made some changes in my life – professionally and personally. I’ve decided to stop working for a while and freelance instead – which is basically the equivalent of retiring from the rat race and its accompanying gastric problems. Pro: I’ve saved a bunch of money from doctor visits and Gaviscon purchasing. Con: Not being able to score Xanax. With freelancing comes a steep learning curve of having to do everything on my own (management, timelines, quotations, invoicing and then designing, on top of that – which frankly, I haven’t done in a while) and of course, a sudden financial deficit and the need to be fiscally prudent. Freedom comes at a price – but then again, doesn’t everything?

Then, you have the personal changes – I went from serial dating to not-really dating and now, to practically-not-a-date. Simple reason: I am just not interested. Maybe it’s the guys I’m meeting, maybe it’s the places I’m going to – more likely, it’s my tired ass that ain’t in the mood. I’m tired of it all – the dinners, the “daterviews” (date interviews), and dead-ends.

With these recent decisions in my life, I’ve had a whole bunch of well-meaning people offer advice to me:

Get a man.
Get a job.
Get a man with a job.
Get a job with good money.
Get a good man.
Get a man with good money.
You need someone who challenges you.
You need someone who gives in to you.
You need someone who excites you.
You need a whirlwind lover.
You need to make a lover from a friend.

And to all that, I’ll use the words of John Lennon:

I’m ok.
I’m doing fine.
There’s no problem.
There’s no hurry.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_m8uoObnWQM&feature=related]

“People say I’m crazy, doing what I’m doing,
Well they give me all kinds of warnings, to save me from ruin,
When I say that I’m o.k., well they look at me kind of strange,
Surely you’re not happy now you no longer play the game,

People say I’m lazy, dreaming my life away,
Well they give me all kinds of advice, designed to enlighten me,
When I tell that I’m doing fine watching shadows on the wall,
Don’t you miss the big time boy, you’re no longer on the ball?

I’m just sitting here making the wheels go round and round,
I really love to watch them roll,
No longer riding on the merry-go-round,
I just had to let it go.

People asking questions lost in confusion,
Well I tell them there’s no problem,
Only solutions,
Well they shake their heads and they look at me as if I’ve lost my mind,
I tell them there’s no hurry…
I’m just sitting here doing time,

I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round,
I really love to watch them roll,
No longer riding on the merry-go-round,
I just had to let it go.”

So, I was out with a friend last weekend and I decided to ask her whether she would consider me a snob. The reason for me asking this question, is because over the years, my club behaviour, protocol and manners has somewhat… evolved. In my 20’s, I was so smoking hot that it gave the license to be quite a bitch to guys who would try to talk to me. In my mid-to-late-20’s, when I was mostly in relationships – it was flirty, keeping the boundaries and I learnt to be gracious and more approachable. When I most reluctantly turned 30, I was at a stage of my life that I didn’t quite expect – single (when all my peers were married and starting families) after being in a relationship for 4 years. Things had definitely changed since I was out there.

My first night out – some random guy came up to me and asked me if I cook and how old I was. I was so taken aback, I actually lost all knowledge of the fact that I’m witty and stared at him with my jaw dropped. I also had to adjust to being hit on by ridiculously younger men (then I went with that for a while, just for the fun of it) and finally re-integrated myself into the world of singledom and things have been pretty good since then. I would consider myself friendly (every chat-up is an opportunity to network) and as long as the guy isn’t a creep, I would generally engage in a conversation. I do not, however, suffer any grabbing hands or accept drinks all the time just because they are offered to me. I think that’s a pretty good policy.

So, anyway, when I asked my friend whether she thought I might be a snob, she pondered the question for a bit and finally replied with, “No… I think you’re a prude”.

Well, that’s definitely one I haven’t heard before.

Mind in frenzy, thoughts in a whirlwind – and it wasn’t just from the vodka. I would have never considered myself a prude but once again, I let myself think about the perception people might have of me. If 20-year-old-me met the person I am now, I’m pretty sure I’d call myself a prude too. I’m extremely particular and careful about the people I spend time with (not because I’m all that great a person) but because I think it’s good to spend time with people that truly add value to your life. I no longer go on dates for the sake of having a good dinner (yes, all girls do that) and frankly, if you can’t get me out of my pajamas and into a dress, why bother? I admit that I might have gotten into a slum of self-seclusion but I seem to have lost my will to strongly socialise. I’d like to think it goes in waves – or… shit, maybe I’m just getting old.