Damn it

           Damn it. I have to find it. I'm 39 and have to find it. Goddamn it, I'm a librarian and I've found all these things other people can't find and everybody's found this except for me. Why not me? Damn it. Check local listings, check the usual websites, hell, I'd check the library catalogue if I thought I could find it there, but it's not in the library catalogue. Damn it. I've tried finding it at dance club, bars, Meet-up events, and a lot of other places, but haven't found it. “No money, no honey” as the expression goes. Somebody who knows how to treat a woman with chivelry, someone like the guys in the YA novels, someone who will stand up for me, kick somebody's ass for me, a man with balls. We can date coworkers, but we can't date or try to pick up customers. Company policy. Damn it. I've tried going to concerts, wearing sexy clothing, going to coffee shops, going to stupid things men are into track tractor pulls, I've tried joining local book clubs (and endured the dumbass arguments), tried learning dances at dance studios, fake wrestling matches, and all these other things and don't understand why men don't find me attractive. Damn it, why not me? What do men want? Then, I start to research and read. After all I am a librarian. So, I read and read about men, what men like, what men read, what turns on men. I read about how men are visual creatures which is why Playboy has so many subscriptions. Great. All I have to do is show up to a bar naked and then I'll get a date. 

           See, when I was young, I had all these ideals of what I wanted a man to be: Well dressed, pressed suit, clean hair cut, showered, tuxedo, cufflinks, shaved chest and face, starched collar, the typical ideal man, romantic, candle light dinners, captain of the football team, smart, charming. You know, perfect.  Then, I started talking to real guys and none of them are like that. They're flawed just like I'm flawed. Hell, we're all flawed. The only one who isn't flawed is Jesus Christ. So, I've dropped a lot of my prerequistits. I don't care if they've been married before or if they have kids from their previous marriage, as long as they still want to have kids with me. I don't care if they're white, black, latino, asian, native american, or any other color. I don't care anymore. Thin, fat, hairy, bald, diabetic, blood pressure, or whatever, as long as they don't care about my problems. See, I wear glasses and take a lot of OTC meds; too many to list here. I've been with other men that didn't work out when I was in high school and had a miscarriage. I like to drink alchohol when I'm down and have smoked once or twice, but I don't anymore. I have some pimples, don't always flush the toilet, pick at my toe nails. I'm human, just like everyone else, but I'll accept their humanity as they accept mine. But, it gets lonely at night. I have a stuffed animal, a big one. Go ahead, laugh. A grown woman with a stuffed animal. But, then I can put all my love into the stuffed animal. Her name is Helena. She wears a bowtie. But see, if I had a boyfriend or a husband, then I wouldn't need a stuffed animal since he could be my stuffed animal. 

           And there are a lot of other things I need a man for too. The door hinge starts to get unloose and I have to call a handyman or an instruction booklet and tools, whereas if I had a man, he could do it. Or when I need a repair on my car and go to the car dealer, the man being there could make it so the car mechanics wouldn't try to rip me off. 

           And I could tell stories I've heard to him and he could tell stories he's heard to me and we could discuss how many children we want to have, where we ultimately want to live, who our favorite movie stars are, and a lot of other things. We could just talk and cuddle the way couples do. Or he could take me out to eat at a fancy restaurant, us both dressed up, me with make-up, and we could talk, place our orders, and enjoy each other's company, instead of feeling lonely and outcast like I do in restaurants now. 

           See, sometimes I'll go driving at night because I want to find someone to give me a hug. Like, I'll drive around the block over and over, looking for someone just to give me a long hug so I won't feel lonely, but the street is always empty at night. At least, so far, the police have left me alone. See, I don't watch TV anymore because I get jealous of engagement announcements on the news, romantic comedies where the couples make up in the end, hug, and kiss each other, and the kids seem happy, too. Why can't I have that? 

           My parents are still alive and both of them keep trying to pressure me to settle down, too, but settle down where and with who? They don't know and neither do I. Have I made any friends? All the other librarians are female and I am friends with them, but none of them have offered to set me up with anyone and half of them are looking for dates, too. But, see, then we hear stories from customers who say they've gone through divorce and the marriage was the worst thing that ever happened to them. Or someone's in an abusive relationship they're trying to get out of, or their kid is severly disabled, so they can't live their life anymore. Sometimes I think I have rose-colored glasses on, but usually I don't. 

           I see all my cousins, siblings, and friends getting married, settling down, buying cars, houses, making friends, and I feel lonely. Hell, the place where I live doesn't even allow pets. Bastards. See, if I had a dog or a cat, they'd cuddle with me, but I can't get that until I move, if I move. Or I could go to night school in a different, exciting career like a bomb difuser, and meet someone there. Nah, I'd probably screw up and get blown to smitherians. Maybe there's dating in Heaven, though. But, for right now, I have a job, I'm reading about getting relationships and waiting and waiting and waiting.