The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Dinner.

The birthday party for the wee one went well. No major hiccups (hiccoughs?), other than I accidentally smashed the coffee pot while whirling like a dervish in the kitchen as I was decorating a cake and making salsa at the same time. M. was only concerned about this as coffee is his smack, so to speak, and though I felt terrible about breaking it, I was angry with him for not seeing the chaos I was dealing with when it happened. He likes to pull the coffee maker out to the edge of the counter so that the steam will not affect the underside of the cupboards. He didn't like that I told him it wouldn't have happened had the maker been pushed further back. He took it as misplaced blame. Maybe it was.

The little people were on good behaviour, and nothing was broken at the end of the day. The mini meatloaves ended up resembling soft balls, but they were still tasty. The custard pie didn't need the caramel sauce I drizzled on top. The whipped cheese potatoes were a little bit leaden after being prepared the day ahead. Overall, though, everyone went home full and content. It makes the stress worth it. The wee one was over the moon with all of the gifts and attention, and she wore her birthday crown all day without thinking to remove it. It made me so happy to see excited and thrilled she was. It was all about her, and she deserved it.

Last night, M's friend C. and his wife invited us over for dinner. I'd been snacking on roasted pumpkin seeds and mini chocolate bars all afternoon so my stomach was not excited at the prospect of digesting food with people who make me nervous. She is about twenty odd years older than I am which makes the conversations topics a little bit dry, and they are religious people, not overly so, but the kind who thank God for dinner and hold hands while doing it. The wee one was dressed up in her cream and gold outfit with the matching headband, and she was enchanted with the home, an 1850's structure with high ceilings and thigh-thick mouldings. The walls were red, and there was art here and there, with antique furniture and a silk Japanese firescreen. Gorgeous, and it isn't their actual home, merely his home away from home while he works at the local hospital. She made a chicken, sweet potato and leek stew, and it was essentially flavourless, but edible, and their daughter politely smiled from across the table with her Abercrombie and Fitch wearing boyfriend who is apparently pre-med and very confident about his abilities. When I mentioned that I had heard that granite countertops are dangerous because they emit dangerous levels of radiation, he smirked and said that he'd need to see the studies on that. I said that the information is all over the net, the Discovery channel, etc. and he continued to smirk, because you see, he's all-knowing.

After apple crisp and tea, the wife spoke on endlessly about the oldest daughter's recent wedding. Both M. and I tried to seem interested, looking through album after album and hearing all the details from planning to honeymoon, and all I could offer was some tidbits about my sister's wedding six years ago, the one which rivalled Charles' and Di's. I shouldn't have said anything, should have left well enough alone, because without missing a beat, she asked innocently, 'And what about your wedding? Where did you two do it?'.

To say it was awkward is not sufficient. I don't know what I sounded like, to be honest. I tried to sound cheerful and light but I know that I didn't. I said something like 'Oh, we haven't done that yet.' She looked confused and directed her attention to M. who looked red even by candlelight. 'Why not?', she asked wide-eyed. He mumbled something incoherent, like 'been there, done that', to which I responded angrily that I am a different person and he stammered that he knew that. 'I think the problem is that you're chicken,' I said disgusted, and then I directed my attention to C. who was showing my wee one his watercolour pencils and sketchbook.

Obviously, it left me in a bad way, hearing that his marriage to someone else was enough for him, and that once again I am not enough to merit a proposal or a diamond. R. spent thirteen years with me before it ended miserably, partially due to his inability to make the final committment, and then he goes off and marries a chainsmoking, previously married, three-time mother country girl. Now, M. makes it seem as though I will never be married, and I have to admit that I am really hurt by it. How did I get to be a thirty-seven year old woman who has had two serious relationships and not once has anyone thought to marry me? My friend K. has had three proposals in her lifetime, of which only one took, but the fact is she was considered important enough to warrant the request.

I'm wondering if relationships are worth the pain, seriously. What would life be like for me if I lived it without a man? Would it better? Less stressful? Would I feel more together? I'm exhausted from wondering about whether or not I am worthy of love, because there are no answers in the worry. I get defensive and withdrawn and it's interpreted as coldness. It's always my fault, according to them, that I am ringless.

When we got home, he asked if something was wrong. 'I was really embarrassed,' I said. 'It was embarrassing discussing our marital situation with her, that's all.' He paused before saying 'Yes, it was a bit uncomfortable. Is there anything I can do?' What sort of question is that? Really? Did he just ask that? 'No,' I said shortly, 'there really isn't'.

So, I'm sad today. I'm feeling low and unwanted, and I thought I'd be past all this by now.

That's all.