Old Age Is Coming For You

Today .... today I feel old.

Today I look old.

Almost two weeks ago, the morning Mr. Marine arrived for his visit, I woke up feeling pretty, thin, and if not young, at least not old. Today could not have been more different. From before I even got out of bed I felt ugly and out of shape. When I dragged myself into the bathroom, the mirror reflected a face back at me 10 years older than my own. I saw the jowls of mid-age, the sour expression of a woman who has not enjoyed life.

Today I saw the ugliness within.

Hell

I am surely going to hell for finding this photo to be hot, Hot, HOT.

Manifesto

Better than I could ever have written myself, the story of an Invisible Spinster.

Needs

Instruction Manual for Seducing The Spinster.

Steff is on to something great with the All Sex Diet.

The Spinster Gets Laid

The Invisible Spinster had a visitor this week.

A man I had been corresponding with online for a few months flew across the country to see me for a few days. A Marine stationed in California, he can satisfy the brain as well as the eyes. I was a little startled when he first suggested a visit soon, but when I consulted Mrs. Smoochy about the idea she said his type tended to favor Decisive Action and not to be surprised at his wanting to move things forward. So I allowed him to come.

Having spent the last few days with him, I am not quite sure what to make of things. By previous mutual agreement he slept in my room from the first night. Now, don't go getting the wrong idea about the Spinster because of that. Not every internet suitor is allowed that priviledge. But sometimes you just know there isn't going to be that awkwardness (and I was right, too). After cuddling amicably for much of the night it was not much of a surprise when things got amorous. Mr. Marine certainly had his talents and made much use of them over the next several days.

This sort of situation as a whole sends my feminism into paroxysms. In one corner is the Modern Woman; she works like a man, eats like a man, fucks with the same impunity as a man. Duking it out in the other corner is the Traditional Woman; she knows damn well true sexual parity is a chimera at best -- a woman can't "drop trou" with the same speed as a man and expect to be respected.

I think TW may win this particular fight. Modern Woman had an early lead because this visit was for a Limited Time Only, and being coy would have gotten us nowhere but sexually frustrated. Somehow that concession seems to have lost in the long run.

When I dropped Mr. Marine off at the airport, here is what I did not get: an embrace, a kiss, declarations of affection or at the very least a declaration of an enjoyable few days. What I did get: a quick one-armed 'side hug' and a mumble that I think translated to "I'll call you in a few days".

I am confused and saddened that he could go from being inside me and moaning my name in ecstasy to saying goodbye like that in a matter of hours. We shall see what becomes of him, but I will always be . . . .

The Invisible Spinster

Weltwendung

I am not generally one to throw around fancy (made-up!) German words, but English just can't describe this. Like an epiphany, only not really. But it changes your outlook nonetheless.

It should come as no surprise to you that I am deeply anti-social. I can be outgoing and sociable if I have to, but it actually leaves me as exhausted as running a marathon and in a deep funk for sometimes days afterwards. It is not so much misanthropy, but pure sensory overload.

I thought I was crazy for going through this. I thought I was alone in it.

Kink isn't really my thing, but it amuses me to skirt the edges of the community. In my skirting, I came across Mistress160's blog, which has what is for me the most amazing post. I know it sounds funny and rather pathetic, but "subdrop" describes exactly how I feel after being social. After an evening out, there is nothing I want more than a little cuddling and attention to settle me down gently. And of course I never get it. Cue funk.

It is such a relief to know I'm not the only one to have those feelings, even if I am freakier than freaky for feeling them after mere small talk with strangers.

Mr & Mrs Smoochy

Last night I went out with my friends Mr & Mrs Smoochy. They are good people and I generally enjoy spending time with them, despite some recent drama. But what I hate -- HATE! I tell you -- is their Public Displays of Affection. I am truly happy for them, but when it's the three of us (even in public!) is it really necessary for them to get practically one step from intercourse?

I will never understand people who get their rocks off with voyeurism. There is nothing in this world that makes me feel worse faster. Some people consider it like window shopping, but that is a flimsy analogy. If you're window shopping, you're there for fun. If you do find something you just can't live without, you can always find a way to buy it. But you can't buy people. (Well, sometimes you can, but that's just not right). So, watching other people get it on? That's less like window shopping and more like being starving and broke in a grocery store.

Invisible

Remember Frodo's cloak of invisibility? I have one too. It's my skin.

Today I was at work, stationed at the cash register. I make a policy of being friendly to all my customers, so I said hello to one guy as he came into the store. You'll just have to take my word for it that at work I am not a mousey person. But this guy, he didn't respond. It was like I didn't exist at all. I tried chatting him up a little, no response. Now some people are just grumpy like that. No big deal, right?

While this guy was browsing, a woman I work with came in to pick up her check. He brought an item to the register to buy while she was there. She says hello, and he responds. When she chats him up, she gets responses. Same fucking questions, only he's laughing and smiling at her.

I am so sick of being invisible.

Number Two

Am I a bad person for not remembering who was Number Two?

Number One

No, this post doesn't involve Commander Riker. Although maybe it should, since he was an early and thoroughly unholy crush of mine. 8 year-olds should not want to do those kinds of things to men pushing 40. Perhaps I should submit him to E for punishment for doing that to my brain.

The Number One in question was my number one. As in The First. My First. Man, that is. If you can call him that. 10 years on, he is now in his third decade and still barely qualifies as a man-child.

I was 17 when I met him and from the first instant I thought he was hot-times-1000. He took a fancy to my fancying him and ultimately I fell in love. I believed his beautiful lies, and within a year or so I slept with him.

I should have known he was fucked in the head when I had to beg him to have sex with me. See, I couldn't get rid of my virginity fast enough. I hated it, I hated the stigma, I hated the inexperience that came with it. We kissed, touched, dry humped, anything except penetration. When I finally asked about it, he recoiled like I'd asked him to do something abhorrent.

I didn't know that's not normal. I didn't know that a "no labels" type of "relationship" meant No Commitment. I didn't know that when he introduced me as "a friend" to co-workers that it wasn't because we were above labels, but because he wanted a crack at some of the barely-legal girls he worked with. I didn't know that people who love you aren't supposed to tell you no one else would have you.

Ultimately, he left me. In retrospect I should have seen a million times over how fucked in the head he was, and still is. Truth should not be a foreign concept. Love should be more than pretty words. I don't regret sleeping with him, only loving him.

In the end, I got my experience.

Spinster Qualifications

What is the difference between an Invisible Spinster(tm) and a Sex and the City type singleton?

Being single is being single afterall, right? Not so much. In a word, the difference is men. More specifically the same action done by a spinster and a singleton, one gets noticed and the other doesn't. As far as I can tell, this applies to still photos as well as real life.

Hello, world

There are legions of us. We are The Invisible.

I am not the girl you flirt with in the video store, nor the co-worker that you crush on.

I am the body that takes up space, but is never noticed. I am your friend and confidante, but never your lover.

Me? I am 27 and the Invisible Spinster.