Wednesday, July 27, 2016

More than words

Dear future hubster,
should it happen that your mother tongue and mine are not the same, please don't refrain from talking to me in any language that comes to your mind in the heat of the moment. I will interpret it as a sign of deep trust, feel honoured by it, and learn just enough of your language to understand you when you talk in your sleep.

Friday, July 8, 2016

Nobody's baby now

Dear future hubster,
I have to admit I lie about you sometimes. That is, when I'm asked. I lie about your existence because way too often that seems to be the only (or the only easy) way out of a conversation I have no interest in continuing any further. 
Granted, I only lie about you to strangers. I answer "yes" without skipping a beat when asked if I'm in a relationship, when I know that the question and the conversation is proposing going out with the other person. I try to avoid further questions, but just in case, I usually have a somewhat coherent backup story - of my imaginary future hubster. How messed up is that.
I feel guilty about lying, and especially that I tend to choose the easy way, instead of standing up for myself giving a speech on how my interest or lack thereof in somebody should be considered first. But sadly, more often than not, it's "hello, what's your name, I think you're pretty/cute/interesting/crazy/weird, do you have a boyfriend?" As if saying that I'm single would automatically mean that I'm available and willing to have a conversation. Sometimes I am, sometimes I'm not, and it has nothing to do with imaginary future hubsters. 
I don't think it's a women only problem, although it probably affects us more. I think we all have a long way to go before we can remove any reference to possession from relationship talks, and consider somebody as a person who chose to be on a team with another person - not somebody's somebody. And when "that's kind of you, but no thanks" will be not only acceptable, but actually accepted, without anybody having to explain themselves. My relationship status has very little impact on my taste; my future hubster, imaginary or not, couldn't make me like escargot, and not like cheese.