Clones...

 

So, my brother rang my father and asked what was wrong with me. Again. Really – that’s a big question to ask. Where does anyone start on something like that? Anyway, my brother, who I haven’t spoken to in a very long time and even then it ended badly, can’t or won’t grasp that I’m single. In his world, women get married. In mine, women do whatever the hell they want. It’s pretty simple. After hearing this never ending question about why I’m not married, I have to ask what business is it of his or anyone else’s?  Hmmm? And no, I’m not a lesbian. And yes, if I was I think that would at least make him feel better – irritated – but better and he could explain it to those of his snotty ilk who would nod their carefully coiffured heads and say ‘well, that makes sense. All single women are lesbians after all. Pass the gin, Binky.’ No, I’m not hideously scarred and hiding a tragic past and no, again, I’m not waiting for my prince to come because I can get by on by own and I’m not about to hook up with some sap on a horse. I don’t like riding horses.  

The thing is, in a world of people all wanting to follow popular trends, dress alike, listen to the same music and eat what’s hip and trendy being an individual with thoughts of your own and making decisions based on what suits you and no one else is threatening to some people. They're scared of people who can get by on their own. To them I say bugger off. I can’t help it if I refuse to clone.  To my brother, I say look at your own life before you judge another’s.