Voices
about. Sometimes, during a couple
days every month in particular,
I want to spend some time lying
on the floor and feeling like there
must be something terribly wrong
with me. I am at the point in my
life where I no longer know another
person in my shoes. I could count
on my friend Colleen for a long
time, but then she had to go and
get a pseudo-boyfriend last year. I
couldn’t believe that. It was almost
like she wasn’t thinking about how
her relationship would affect me.
Most of the time it does not upset me to think about my sad, old,
decrepit spinster body. Obviously
there are about one trillion things
that could be worse about my life.
Not having a boyfriend at any given
moment bothers me very little. Not
having ever had one bothers me
only slightly more, only because I
want to know that I’ll get to fall in
love at least once, for real. Not in
the way I’m used to, which involves
one-sided daydreaming prolonged
over embarrassing lengths of time,
projected onto boys and men (and
Boyz II Men) who either don’t know
me at all, or who know me but don’t
exactly like-like me. I’m getting too
old for that. At least that’s what I
keep trying to tell myself, right after
the latest episode of me acting like
KATIE
HEANEY
HUFFINGTON
01.26.14
some extra-tall preteen with a Justin Bieber problem has passed.
It makes me feel good to know,
though, that I am not alone in
every way. Even if I’m the only
permanen