The Sting

My brother may have a different take on our upbringing, but I don't recall a particularly affectionate family. Naturally, I have no choice but to think of this a bit as an adult and especially as an adult who dates. Aside from all the other wonderful nuances of meeting someone I would like to spend time with, issues come to the surface, like, say intimacy. (Case in point, I just sat here for several minutes looking at those italicized letters kind of trying not to throw up in my mouth.)

I know I am tough to deal with from time to time. I have been called numerous things, my favorite nicknames can't be said on television before 9:00 p.m. My personality can be prickly, my views on things harsh, but can I blame this on being raised by a bunch of WASPs who reveled in public displays of rejection? I think this is just me. When I see my younger siblings hanging out with their friends or each other, they are quite adorable and all hugglesworth and things I never was. I kinda sit back and envy it a bit, but not enough to participate. That is them, and this, my friends, is moi.

This lack of affection doesn't mean that I am not sensitive. A deodorant commercial could set me off on a crying jag. Watching old people walk around alone at night scares the shit out of me (for their sake, they don't frighten me. I could totally take on an octogenarian.) I might not be approachable, but I sometimes I do fancy myself a fair maiden trying to negotiate a path with a few pebbles on it. So, I may appear to live up to my Chinese astrological sing (Ox), but that doesn't mean that I don't have any feelings. Spare me the kid gloves, but don't be an ass.