To Each His Own

Running late you slip out of your sunshine yellow Chevy Aveo only to stand outside the house. The three bedroom single family home with two car garage, perfectly manicured lawn, and white plastic fence remind you of the suburban hell you long to escape. This will be your prison for at least two hours. 

Walking up the driveway you prepare yourself for everyone's questions: 

"How have you BEEN?" ...fine

"What have you been doing... besides working?" ...working, seeing friends... you know... stuff...

"How's apartment life?" It's great, last-

"When can we SEE you?" ... I'll have to check my schedule...

"When are you going to get a boyfriend?" ...

Once you finally make it up to the door you're greeted by two Irish Setters, your aunt, uncle, brother, sister-in-law, nephew, mother, father, and grandmother. Each person takes the time to let you know how special you are to them and that you should come around more often, call even. You smile and nod the whole entire way to the sofa where you plop down waiting for the questions.

No one quite understands your answers or why you’re being so quiet. Eventually everyone talks about you as if you weren’t in the room but much nicer.

“Her hair looks nice.”

“She’s looking good.”

“I like her shirt.”

When your nephew climbs on you your aunt says, “I’ll bet you can’t wait to have one of your own.”

You give her a glare, a response she expects.

“She’ll have to wait until she finds a boyfriend then get married before she even thinks about that,” your mother says completely missing the point.

The situation has become dire; you decide to read the book you packed just in case. Suddenly everyone needs to ask you what book you’re reading to break the deadly silence. Since no one seems to know who Chuck Palahniuk is you explain that he wrote Fight Club but of course everyone missed that one when it came out.

As time goes by the party goers are less interested in you and more interested in the toddler trying to play with a Dino scooter from the 70’s. Your sister-in-law is concerned about the safety of the toy since two generations of your family probably horribly maimed themselves on it and he is going to be the next victim.

After the terrible toy is taken away your sweaty father sits down next to you putting his slimy arm over your shoulder.

“I love you kid.” …

“You could call us once in a while.” … I could…

“We miss you kid.” …

“Well, if you need anything you just have to ask.” … okay…

He gets up to follow the toddler who has embarked on yet another adventure. At this point some of the older crowd start to leave now is your chance to get out. You say your good byes and walk gracefully to your car.

Once in the car you less gracefully start feeling down again, you had been raised to find a boyfriend, get married, and have children (or pets). But that’s not your life; that’s the life of the people in that house. You chose not to perpetuate the stigma that this is all there is in life. This gives you meaning as you drive home but when you arrive you get depressed because you realize that you feel so alone.