A Woman Out By Herself

I'm just another average shmo. Just another girl next door type. Nothing special, nothing extraordinary, nothing to write home about. And you know what? That's absolutely fine with me. I don't want to be your hero and I definitely don't want to be your victim. I just want to enjoy any day I have left to the best of my ability. I don't need you to buy me a drink. I don't need you to give me a compliment. I don't need you to call me "sexy". It would be nice if you offered a smile and a nice conversation, but if that's too hard for you to do, no problem.

I'm not showing up somewhere to boost your frail ego. I'm not showing up somewhere to start or stop a fight. If I show up somewhere, it's because I'm bored or lonely and I have nothing better to do. It's that simple. I'll be polite to you so long as you're polite to me. If you're rude, I'm rude. If you ignore me, I ignore you. If you look dangerous or threatening, I'm gone.

Sometimes I dress nicely. I do this to feel good about myself. I'm not trying to compete with the other girls. I'm not trying to pretend I'm better than anyone. If it gets your attention, the proper response is "That's a nice dress" or "You look nice" --- Not "Wow, she wants to fk!" Believe me, if I wanted to fk, you'd have more proof than the clothes I'm wearing.

When I went to church, I was excluded from the choir so I go to karaoke instead. When I went to bible study, I got into an intellectual debate about archetypes, so I scroll and troll online instead. When I tried to find romance at Facebook, I got scammed by catfishy liars, and in person anywhere else no one knows how to act. So forget about it. I don't need to be the leading lady in some cheesy sappy romance story. It's not that important.

I spent 30 years working and fking. Then menopause. All I got was a POS car and a social security check. I played the role of Slutty Reindeer for you for over 30 years. That role is retired from my being. Only Bitchy Reindeer exists now in my closet. So if you can't afford to buy me a drink, then don't look at me with a drooling tongue. If you can't expand your mind to offer a compliment or something flattering, then skip the conversation. If you can't do romance the way that Sinatra and Martin and those golden oldies used to do it with flowers and pizazz, leave me alone. I'm not interested in a "Sid and Nancy" remake or the missing prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. I go to the dive bar for a "Cheers" type of feeling. I'm lonely and bored --- not your punching bag, and not your working girl.

Got it? Good. If not, I'm not the one who loses out. You're just hurting the bar, the bartender, the DJ, and the others who feel exactly the way I do.