Sometimes it’s difficult being unmarried and childless at 34, not necessarily because I wish I was married with a couple of kids, though sometimes…but rather because other people needle me on why I’m the childless spinster of the family, as though they had a bone to pick with me or something. I’ve never been particularly maternal, and I’ve never seen myself as a mother. I always thought that if it happened, great, and if it didn’t, well, that was great too. I don’t hate kids, I’m just not drawn to them the way some people are. I’m single because fat ugly cows with no self-esteem are not all that attractive to men, and since I don’t drink, I’m hardly going to plop myself down at some bar or club and wait for someone drunk enough to have significantly lowered standards to wander by. I don’t necessarily mind someone asking, but when the questions turn judgmental, as though I’ve made a mess of my life, that’s when I get pissed off. It’s okay to be curious, but it’s not okay to be an asshole about it.