Recently, I've run into what some are calling a bit of a problem. Apparently I've caused more than a few raised eyebrows and hushed comments due to my desire to sit and write rather than spend my time seeking Mr. Right.
I was raised to be polite - gracious, even - so I know I should say that I'm grateful for the concern from my family and friends, but I'm not. I'm about as grateful for their opinion as I am for the zit that sprung into action on my forehead this morning. Neither one is helping me get any decent dates, and both are only strengthening my urge to hole up in my room and play my tiny violin to a fresh notebookfull of paper.
So that's why I'm here; I'm beginning my Bitching as a tribute to these well-meaning people in my life. The idea is to write about all of the things that I'm doing (and perhaps also those that I'm not) to find a man in this lonely city and to come clean about the secrets I've been keeping in my writing life. Maybe there will be a lesson in chronicling my Sass in the City behavior, but I'm not holding out for any miracles. My priority (and my affections) still lie with my words, my mechanical pencils, and my college-ruled notebook paper.
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