You want something real
I’m sick to death.
I’m sick of working hard, being nice, reaching out to people, looking out for people and trying to do what’s right. I’m sick of women. I’m sick of competing, arguing, talking, writing, looking at them.
In life and in blogging, there is this rumor about friendship and bonding. I’ve seen a bit of it. I have a few friends who read this that have never met me, but still seem to care. I don’t want to undermind that, I really don’t. There are some e-friends I have that check in on me more than family members or ‘real life’ friends, and that means a lot. But overall, I really can’t see where all this imagined bonding is taking place, because it’s not with me.
We bicker, we’re bitchy and we’re competetive. We shit out our feelings online or to each other and discard what everyone else has to say. We think only of ourselves, and we don’t apologize for it. We want attention, then whine when it’s not the right kind. We stab each other in the back.
Women are not kind to each other. We work hard, we raise our kids, we fight the good fight, and when the day is over, we sit down to think about us. There’s nothing wrong with that. However, not one of us, sitting comfortably at home behind a computer screen, is any better or worse than anyone else. You have a popular blog? Good for you. You’re beautiful? Congratulations. Your kid is a genius? Yay. None of that fucking matters if you don’t have the common decency to realize that you’re not the only person on the fucking planet, and for the love of God, someone else might have something to say.
I’ve noticed that the people who act shitty like this in real life don’t do it in any way dissimilar to those who do it online. It’s strange, really, because I thought for a long time that we were all in this together. In life and in parenting, in the web-world and the physical. More and more I see that’s not the case.
I’ve been told I’m not a good friend because of my husband’s job. I’ve been told I’m not a good person because I have intervened in situations that gave me nightmares. I’ve been disregarded as a person with a valid opinion because of my voter registration card. I’ve listened to people make fun of my child, not thinking I could hear, because he has a speech delay. I’ve been stabbed in the back by people I opened my home to, people who called me their friend. So when I get online to write and look for support and understanding and am met with selfishness and disdain, I tend to get a little pissy. I deal with enough selfishness and disdain in my actual day to day life — I don’t have time for it online.
Do me a favor: don’t call yourself my friend if all you have to talk about is you. Don’t call me at all if you can’t even remember that I’ve been fucking depressed about failing to conceive. Don’t contact me just to ask me a fucking favor because guess what? I’m worried about me right now, and that is the fucking priority.
And if you have an issue with me, do me a favor and just fucking say so instead of talking to me like I’m a fucking child.
