Dirty Little Secrets.

I live in constant fear of dying. I probably think about it at least once an hour. No kidding.  And it’s not just the whole dying and ceasing to exist part that gives me anxiety.  Once I let my mind go there, all I can think about is all of the stuff that will still be there after I’m gone and the shame that comes with all of those things left behind. 

The dishes aren’t done, the litter box is a mess, the spare bedroom and office are still in a state of disorganization (I’ve been there a year and a half now…come on, it’s time I got my shit together).  Every room needs dusted, mopped, vacuumed.  If I die tomorrow will my poor mother have to come down and take care of all this crap?  The most upsetting thing is I don’t want anyone near my undies.  For Christ’s sake!  Who will clean out my underwear drawer?  And what about the Special Bag of Fun (SBOF)?  You know the bag I’m talking about (perhaps yours is not a bag at all, but a drawer in your bedside table).  It has stuff in there.  FUN stuff.   Miraculously, I actually do have a plan for the SBOF!  But what if the person who has been commissioned to take care of the SBOF doesn’t have a chance to get there to remove the SBOF before my poor mother sees it?  If she sees it, maybe my dear mother will be glad that I actually had a sex life at one point.  She’ll likely feel sorry for me because it obviously wasn’t a recent sex life, evidenced by the bountiful supply of very expired condoms.

Now that we live in the future, there’s also electronic evidence to think about!  If all the normal shames weren’t enough for us, we’ve basically been screwed by modern-day technology.  Maybe this comes to mind especially in the wake of Weinergate.  I’m not married and haven’t been sending naked pictures of myself to skanks online (Like our friend Weiner!), but there may be some naughty IMs on my computer and text messages on my phone that aren’t really appropriate for anyone’s eyes but my own and the receiver of those messages. Though truthfully, most of those are to and from my gay bff.  We often will see who can be the most explicitly and grossly sexual in text messages.  It’s kind of like a game of chicken – whoever gets grossed out enough to quit first loses.  Along those same lines, at times we try to find unusual and weird “videos” (when you put “videos” in “quotes” that means they are “dirty videos”) and send those links to each other to view on our computers and then laugh and laugh as we watch them.  One that particularly stands out in my mind was called Old Farts and Young Tarts. 

I’m thinking a major purge may be in order at the indiesinglegirl household this weekend…


About independentsinglegirl

I don't like asking for help. Sometimes that gets me into trouble!
This entry was posted in Dating sucks, I'm old. and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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