Vail Valley Voices: It’s not easy being me
November 5, 2012
I live in a world that most of you cannot relate to. It’s free of many responsibilities that others are obligated to address every day of their lives. I have freedoms that you have forgotten about.
No one would dare say to me “pick up those socks and underwear, you pig.” I let them lay there until the drawer with the clean stuff is empty and then I wash the clothes. I mix the whites with the colors, and if someone stares me down in the public laundry, I say, “What are you looking at?”
I love to cook and if the package has 16 to 20 wings, six pork chops or 22 ounces of London broil, I cook it all and eat as much as I please. I’ll simmer a large can of hickory smoked baked beans and call it “vegetables for a week.”
I fall asleep to the TV, on the couch, sometimes with my ski boots on, and dare someone say to me, “Are you coming to bed?”
I don’t have to call anyone to say, “I’m not coming home tonight.”
I don’t eat breakfast. Drinking water is not part of hydrating, but coffee and beers are. I oversalt my food. No one yells, “You left the cap off the toothpaste again.” I will run out the door only if I’m late for a tee time.
In other words, because of my singular freedom, there’s not a whole lot holding me back or down. So why do I come home some days and want to kick the dog? (Just an expression. I don’t have a dog.)
After many years of self analysis, I’ve come to the conclusion, and I’m absolutely positive, maybe, I think, it’s because I don’t have anyone steering me in a different direction.
Although many of my friends live their lives vicariously through me, I must make a half-hearted attempt to explain that being single is not all that it’s perceived to be. Allow me to rattle off a few examples looking in from the other side.
I get real tired of having conversations with myself all the time. As interesting as I am, I find myself impossible to agree with. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better to have someone tell me just that.
Eating more than you should isn’t exactly a privilege. It can be considered a curse. There is no way that a half-gallon of rocky road ice cream with chunks of Heath pieces and Hershey chocolate sauce should be gone in two days if only one person knows it’s there. Someone should be around to slap you in the face after that.
I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t mind if that person also took me to task and said, “Eat your damn vegetables and try a salad once in awhile. It’ll keep you regular.” Not to mention she could cook for me once or twice a month. That could be special.
I am so tired of going to parties, shopping, skiing, hiking, debates, church and Thanksgiving by myself. I wonder sometimes if a rent-a-mate is in my future. That, or get a dog.
If someone said, “Have a piece of toast with your coffee,” I probably would say, “OK.”
Anyone out there know what it’s like to fall asleep to the TV and wake up with a plate of pasta turned over on your chest? Not good. Maybe, just maybe, I yearn for someone to say, “Turn off the TV, rinse your plate, brush your teeth, take off your golf shoes, and come to bed. And don’t make me come back out here.”
As far as “not coming home tonight,” that is not a freedom. That means you fell asleep somewhere other than your own bed, and there is nothing good about that. You wake up the next day and have a kink in your neck or an ache in your head, or both.
So basically this is what it comes down to. If you’re single do whatever you want, by yourself, and get used it. If you have a partner, tolerate the person who doesn’t let you do anything by yourself, and get used to it.”
On a day-to-day basis, I’m never too sure what I want.
See what I mean? It’s hard to be me.
Greg Ziccardi can be reached at http://www.GZVAIL@Yahoo.com