All grumpy on the inside

I'm under a wave of grumpiness I haven't witnessed since my dark teen-ages. I know why it's happening, but for obvious reasons, I cannot count on friends' support to get out of it. Because they are to blame. Don't get me wrong, I love them and I'm happy for them, but this getting married-having children phase is making me bitter and bored.

It would be a lie to say I haven't treated dolls as my own little baby girls as child, or that I haven't a couple of times imagined a wedding for myself sometime around my 20s. However, it all vanished, squashed by rationalisation or even bigger dreams.

The fall, 2006

I see no point in signing a contract with someone you love, and the idea of having a priest bless our vows and telling me to obey my man makes me want to burn the whole church. I find wedding parties a uselessly expensive gathering including people you'd rather not see, food and music you cannot swallow, all the while tight up in a flashy dress that already feels like the ball and chain the rest of your life is going to be. Fine, I've been to a couple of fun exceptions, but always failed to see the meaning of restricting one's freedom by placing the need to hire a lawyer when it's time to break up and move on.

El espiritu de la colmena, 1973

And children, as fascinating in their innocence as they can be but most of the time are not, just seem like the end for me. Simply the end of spending your time doing things you enjoy, from long baths to club nights, to backpacking and binge movie watching. All over with one excruciating push that leaves you saggy and exhausted from the first cry.

There, it's out. I left this here in secrecy and with two idyllic cinematographic glances at childhood. I'll keep it like that.