Colour me sceptical...

I went out clubbing last night for the first time in longer than my memory goes back. My memory is pretty terrible you see.

I was half-expecting to hate it. I sit in on Saturday nights, feeling like Emma-no-mates and wish I had that huge group of mates everyone else seems to have that they go out with every weekend to drink and dance and have LOADS of fun.
I was thinking on my way there, that maybe it was just dancing I wanted to do. And if that was the case, I could just start dance lessons somewhere.
I thought I'll probably hate how loud it is. I'll hate the way the floor sticks. I'll hate the leering men and the constant smell of Red Bull.

But I didn't hate it all. Yes the music was loud at times but you get used to it. Yes the floor sticks, but when you're a bit drunk and therefore uneasy on your heels that can be useful. And it didn't smell like Red Bull.

But the men. The guys. The boys. Urgh.

It seems that in clubs, women are meat. The men have come to the market, hoping to find something they can take home straight away.
These men try it on with EVERYONE. They'll try smiling or looking seductively at all these women. They'll try and cuddle up to you on the dancefloor or at the bar. You'll notice them staring at you, salivating slightly, when all you're doing is headbanging to Nirvana.

A few weeks ago I went to a midnight performance at the Globe, and was waiting at the bus stop in London with my sister at about 3.30am. I suddenly realised a guy was standing very close to me, and when I looked up at him, he immediately began conversation. How was I? Where had I been? Did I have a good time? On and on and on. Eventually he asked for, and I gave him, my number (I am NEVER quick enough to programme in a fake number. "Just change one digit" people tell me. But I never think quick enough!) He then moved on, while I was still standing waiting for my bus, to another woman standing around and started chatting to her.
Needless to say, I never heard from him, and funnily enough, I wasn't bothered.

But this is what men seem to be like, in clubs more so than anywhere. They try their luck, if they strike out, they move on. Kind of predator-like.

The ratio in the club last night was at least 4 males to every 1 female. Women would be dancing on the dancefloor, on a raised platform, at the edge of the bar, and there would be scores of men standing around, looking awkward, possibly pretending to dance, but mostly just staring. At the women. So it's inevitable that you get stared at. But cuddled up to, and in my case last night, randomly grabbed for a photo. Errr, kind of bemusing, little bit terrifying.

And then as I walked to the taxi rank, I suddenly have a guy walking alongside me. How am I? Have I had a good night? Where did I go? Was it good? Who was I with? What is my name? Do I want to share a cab (in opposite directions mate? Are you mental?! Oh wait, you meant to yours... no thanks...) Will I meet up with him next week? (cue shambles story about jealous boyfriend...) Take my number, he goes. Then, drop call me, he says. Text me when you're home safely, he asks.
(When I didn't, he text me.)

URGH.
How can I give out the wrong number if I have to drop call him?

Neil from Addiscombe, if you're reading this - you're not my type, sorry. I don't really like men who come on to girls walking alone at 2am. I don't want to visit your flat. I'm not sorry that I lied to you about being taken. But let's be honest, I was scared of you. I wasn't going to say, "No I don't want to come to yours at any point because I don't like the look of you". Because I was ALONE. At 2AM. 
 And I have been trained to be cautious because I am female and if I'm unlucky, I'll get raped.
But at least I don't have to worry about getting pregnant, as long as it was a legitimate rape. Or maybe it wouldn't have been, because he didn't jump out the bushes, he introduced himself.

Sigh.

Another thing that has been bugging me all week:

Marriage. (yes, still...)

The other weekend, when a couple I am friends with were talking about marriage, I sort of went on a rant about how I don't believe in marriage so don't expect me to be genuine when I congratulate them on their wedding day.
I'm sitting here in my bedroom, hiding from the situation I live with everyday - the crumbled and dilapidated marriage that once belonged to my parents.
Colour me sceptical, but on your wedding day, I will say congratulations, but I won't mean it, not really. not from the bottom of my heart. I will say "I'm so happy for you both", and really what I will mean is "I'm so happy that you are happy, but I'm sad that you felt you happiness depended on getting married."
I was sceptical even before my parents decided to call it a day, by the way. It just made me less "hmmm not sure marriage is my thing...", and my made me more "Marriage is not my thing."

A few months ago now I went out with two former teachers of mine, and the random woman I was introduced to turned out to be the new wife of one of them - they'd just gotten married 2 days ago. Later it was revealed the other teacher had just made the decision to get married, after having been with his partner for 6 years.
This latter teacher described it as being the "next step". Here were two grown men making what is considered to be the ultimate commitment.

And I just don't get it. If you are committed, why get married? Despite what people say, I think society plays a huge role in this. Even if you don't feel like society is trying to get you married, it still presents you with two of options: get married or be single. There never seems to be anything in between. Everyone sees moving in with someone as the step before getting married, not the "final step", just one of the steps. These steps, where did they come from? And how can I avoid them please?



I found also, last night, that I was judging EVERYONE on what they were wearing. Men included. Some outfits were a talking point with my friends, but often I thought "I don't like what she's wearing" or "She's brave to be wearing that."
I suppose it was an improvement that I wasn't lamenting how much better everyone looked compared to myself, but criticising everyone else in my head isn't much better.
But I'll keep working at that. I realised what I was doing, and tried to stop.

Worrying about what I look like comes and goes. Worrying about being healthy enough to run away from attacked worries me, even though it shouldn't do because I shouldn't have to run away from an attacker because no one should be attacking me in the first place.
I have gotten to a point where spending time worrying about my skin or my thighs etc is pointless. It's futile. Why am I sitting here worrying about my weight, when I am probably 4 times heavier than an African child who has only eaten once this week and has no fresh water?
Why am I fussed whether my thighs are too thick for skinny jeans when there are people being trafficked?

It's hard to negotiate what matters in this life. I can't stand the way the media and society try to make me believe that material goods are important, that marriage and kids are important, that money is important.

I would like, just for one moment, to be able to work out what is important to me.
I'll start with what isn't important to me: being able to suit prints, being tall, having glossy hair, and fitting size 6 dresses.

Diary entries

My diaries, in the last few years, have massive gaps in them. I write quick, snatched, bits and pieces about what's going on in my life, and often don't try to catch up my diary on what's been going on. Why would I? The only person who'll read it is me, right?

I sat to try and get some thoughts and feelings onto paper in my diary today. I spent a lot of time working through what I was thinking in order to see if I could have any epiphanies or revelations as I was writing.

I am currently house sitting for a friend of my mother's. This woman, used to be my idol - single woman with a great career, living in a beautiful home with 2 cats for company.
And then she met a man, and is getting married this autumn.
And he has 3 kids.

I don't want to get married. I don't see the appeal in legally binding yourself to someone, or having to have an actual wedding day, with all it's pomp and overpriced accessories. Or taking someone else's name... (although I have to concede that some people would want to do that. Even though it SYMBOLISES BECOMING SOMEONE ELSE'S PROPERTY. *ahem* sorry. Just my anti-marriage tourettes.)

I have thought about marriage a lot. The decision that I do not want to get married is not something I have come to lightly. If I'm honest, my own parents recent separation and impending divorce is something that strengthened my resolve that marriage is not for me. Yes, I know my marriage wouldn't be the same as their marriage. The point is, their marriage is 1 in 3 marriages you will aware of that will end in divorce. If you take the marriages of my father and his 2 brothers, he is the 1 in 3. But if you look at my grandparents and their children ( my mother and uncle, who are both going through divorces) my grandparents marriage survival is 1 in 3, so 2 out of those 3 marriages have collapsed.

Anyway, the same decision making applies to the subject of children - I have considered very seriously the implications of having children.

I sort of understand why people have kids. Reasons range from just simply adoring children, to wanting to continue and secure the bloodline or family name. (Which is ONE reason many women do not change their name, and why it can be seen as sexist for the woman to have the change their name to their husband's surname. Basically, by changing their surname, the woman loses her individual family name, and her identity is then dependent on a man. If we're honest, kids will most likely have the father's name if the parents are not married (and still together) or the woman keeps her own name. So therefore, a woman's surname is at all times (with exceptions of course, i.e single mother families) that is given to her by a man. So maybe, if you don't like your dad, take your husband's name. I love my dad, so I'm keeping his. Although mine is now a double barreled creation of my family name and my mother's maiden name. So I belong to both clans, now that they are separating you see...)

Anyway I'm getting off topic!

I do not want children. Yes! It is that simple!
Yes, I am "only" 23, but I have thought about it a lot. My reasons for not wanting children include but are not limited to:
1. I will get fat.
2. I will get stretch marks.
3. It will ruin my body (which I do have issues with but on the whole quite like it how it is, inside and out!)
4. I don't like children (and sometimes/frequently they scare me - I have a theory, but I won't go into it...)
5. I am too selfish.
6. I don't want anyone.anything that dependent one me (that's why cats are purrfect hehe)
7. I don't want to push anything the size of a football out of my vagina,
8. I don't really want to spread my DNA. I was a horrible child. I couldn't cope if it turned out like me.

I don't see how having children will automatically complete my life. Like, really? How?! By costing me time, effort, and lots of money? Money I could spend on chocolate?
Is the result really worth it?
I don't think so.
Especially not if it has to come out of my lovely vagina, and grows up to be anything like me.

What really angers me about people, society, and friends is that they collectively say "you'll change your mind".
Why? Why would I change my mind? Oh wait, yeah, because getting married and having children is what all women want to do. It's our natural course in life. It's what we were built to do. Because we have the little baby houses inside us that they rent for 9 months.
So I am going against nature by not wanting kids.

I might be "only" 23, but I have been thinking about this for at least 10 years. And probably longer, because no doubt this sexist crap was introduced at nursery, in order for it to become subliminal or unconscious thought by the time I actually had to start thinking about it.
I remember, playing "husband and wife" under the age of 8. When my "husband" came home from "work", I had his "tea" ready for him on the table in our "house".
N.B Everything in the above sentence with quotation marks indicate pretend things. Imagine someone sarcastically bending their two fingers. That's the stuff.

People say that because I get so angry and fight so viciously to convince people that this is my choice, that that means actually I'll change my mind. "Lady doth protest too much" (no sarcastic finger bending here btw.) This "lady doth..." theory of theirs makes me think I should just shut my mouth. But why should I? Why should women who don't fit into society's norms be silenced?
If we stay quiet, the others won't know we're out there.

Unfortunately, I have come to realisation that if I tell men I don't want kids, then that must mean I don't want commitment right? Because surely, any woman who wants to get "serious" must mean get married and have kids...

I do want commitment. I want someone I can grow old with. Spar with. Enjoy life with.
That does not mean marriage and kids. And it doesn't mean a joint bank account (because you can repair a broken heart if they turn out not be trustworthy. However, you cannot get back any money they spend without your consent, no matter what it went on. Unless it was a vehicle, which you might be able get some money back on.)

I'm not saying I want to find that person NOW.
I'm just saying that when it comes down to it, we won't need to have a discussion about marriage and kids.
Or at least, it'll be a short one.