A real person

I don't feel like a real person. Let me explain. Real people have husbands or wives and in-laws that drive them crazy, but ya gotta love 'em. They have children that they get to see the wonder and awe through, at Christmas time, when everything is so magical and anything could happen. They are one half of a couple, buying their first house together or getting a dog together as a test to see if they're ready to have kids yet. Real people date. They go on eharmony or get set up on blind dates by their friends. They go out with their friends every Saturday night and paint the town, dancing at clubs, getting hit on and drinking too much. (not saying I want to do that last part, because I definitely do not). But real people live a life that is outside the walls of their house. They don't write a 65 page story of the near future where they're married to a Canadian actress that doesn't even know they exist and will never know. They don't begin writing another story, this one about their 15 year old self, but with a completely different life and situation and family. Someone who is the same person inside as they were at 15...but with a much earlier understanding of the deepest parts of themselves. A part unexplored until 31...which makes her feel like she's too late to the party. Too late to the game. The rules have already been explained, teams picked, heck the game's nearing on half-time... showing up now is pointless and you are completely lost as to what's going on. Who's gonna want this non-real person? A real person can label themselves and know it's true because they've lived it and experienced that label, not because it's how they feel inside or what they want. How can you call yourself a Mom if you have no kids?  Or a wife if you have no significant other? Or a lesbian if you've never been with a woman...
I don't think I've come out and said that before on this blog. I danced around it and eluded to it. I wrote a blog titled "my truth" and talked about it in a somewhat vague way, but I've never used that actual term. I really haven't even said it that much out loud to people. I feel like I'm not allowed to. If I haven't kissed a girl...and more (other than in my dreams or in print in my stories), than how can I say that I am? I don't say this because I'm questioning it or wondering anymore about my sexuality. I am way past that stage. It's been 2 and a half years. I know. I've felt something deep down that I never felt with the other sex. Both in movie scenes and in real life. My stomach does this flipping/butterfly fluttering/dropping thing all at the same time. I had never felt that before in my life. It's intense and it's real. It's deep down in my soul. Just because I haven't been with a girl, doesn't mean I don't know that I'm gay. And I guess right there I answered my own question. I know I'll meet girls (women. But I think most women say 'girls', but they mean women, it sounds weird I know), who will refuse to be with me in that way due to the fact I never have been with one of them before. They will say I'm just experimenting, and they have a right to say that. I'm sure they've been dumped by girlfriends who immediately go back to guys. I never landed on guys, so I'm good. No worries there. I don't have a desire for that. It was just something I was gonna suck up and do come wedding night. I was so one-track minded. Find a guy, get married and have 3 or 4 kids. Heck it's what every friend I went to school with through college, did. It's the only reference point I had. There were no other options in my mind. How could there be? What other life is there than one of being a good wife and mother? I certainly never thought I'd be here; still single at 33, after switching teams 2 and a half years ago. Can I not have one girlfriend, at the very least? Geez. The first one doesn't even have to be "the one." I honestly don't care. I just want someone that wants me, that's attracted to me, that's nice and I'm equally attracted to. We can be friends first, heck we can be only friends... as long as there's a least a little something extra. I have enough straight girlfriends who get all the extra stuff in the world with their husbands. I don't need another boring straight friend (no offense). I don't just want someone to talk to, even though that is where it should start and build from there, I'm not a one-night stand kinda girl. No way. I have to really care for this girl and really like her and really be attracted to her for all this to go down. Anyways, enough painting a picture. But this is all why I don't feel like a "real person." Real people have connections with other real people, that I just don't seem to have anymore. I don't seem to make them anymore. Maybe people have changed, maybe I have changed. I certainly do think the internet has changed people. It doesn't foster face to face interactions. Social interactions are not the same as they were even just 10 years ago. I can't even get the friends I do have for a face to face interaction. It's all text nowadays. I sound like an old person. "These kids and their texting." I am of course one of them. Texting is better than nothing, otherwise they wouldn't be in my life at all. But it's not better than seeing them and touching them and hugging them, knowing that they are really listening to you and responding to you in real time, because they are actually staring at you in the face, not just responding via text whenever they get around to it. That's so out dated now-face to face, more specifically body to body, because Skype doesn't count. And that makes me really sad for us. At least we haven't moved to a place where children are being raised by robots and you only communicate with your partner through typing, while they live in a completely different house. If this is your life, then you might need to reevaluate it.
The thing is, I do love staying inside all day with my cat and doing nothing but binge watching a show and writing all day, never getting out of my pajamas. I of course don't do this every day, but it's a pretty good day in my book. Of course I would love someone there with me binge watching Orange is the new black or Lost girl or some other hot lesbian show. I do find purpose and joy in playing with my cat and giving her love and attention, since I work all day 5 days a week and if I go out of town for a long weekend, that's even worse, because she doesn't like anyone but me. I love writing. I love escaping into a world I create for myself. I love thinking back on it throughout the day when I need to get away for a moment at my crazy job with all the crazy people. I don't want to give that up, my writing. I never will. Sometimes it's all I want to do, I just can't get enough of it. It's like when Mollie's asleep on my chest and I just can't get enough of her. I miss her. Like while she's sleeping on me, I miss her right then. I love her so much my heart feels like it'll explode. She has the weight of a baby, but she's soft and silky, which a baby is not. And she doesn't ruin the moment with a stinky diaper or grow too big to sleep on my chest. Cats are just the best. People who don't like them (and I mean as a whole) are just tunnel vision and not open minded people. Not all cats are evil. And maybe they're evil because they know you don't like them. I won't say anything bad about dogs, I won't stoop to cat-haters level. I'll just mention the dog in "UP." And that is all.
I always have trouble ending these blog posts. I don't know how to conclude. I hate summations. I also find it difficult in the stories I write. That's why I haven't ended any of them. Well that and I'm not done yet. I have so much more to say; in my stories and in life. These blogs could go on forever. That would be awesome. Me at 70, still typing these blogs... or more likely speaking into a computer and letting it do the typing. But by then I won't be saying I'm not a "real" person anymore. I'll be saying I lived a wonderful and fulfilling life, in however the pieces fell. Do what you can. Things will happen, but make of them what you will and try to always find some way to express yourself. Real people express themselves... guess I'm real after all.