It didn't work out with the Irish Guy. He turned out to be a bit crazy-bananas. The experience has confirmed that I don't want a boyfriend, but almost everyone under thirty that I know is either happily ensconced in a long-term relationship, or is dating and about to become ensconced in a long-term, happy relationship and if I don't get in on the act I am destined to spend Saturday nights alone until I die or I fashion a life partner from a mop and a pumpkin and call him Christophe - whichever comes first. I like doing my own thing and I value my free time; after work, hospital, the Masters, the Book and some occasional, watered-down socialising, I don't seem to have a lot of free time left. That which I do have I would rather spend on my sofa watching The West Wing with Bear and some custard cream than in a pretentious wine bar straining to hear some guy, who I know won't ring tomorrow, despite what he says, bloviate about the merits of golf/the NME/ his ex-girlfriend. And yes, I do know how pathetic that makes me.
If you have kidney failure, dating is not the straight-forward (albeit bone-crunchingly awkward) endeavour it should be. I am told by anyone concerned enough to give counsel that I should simply "not mention" my condition until I have at least managed to trick the guy into liking me and therefore made him more amenable to my incurable disease. This is not bad advice, but hard-earned experience has proved it is stupid. Imagine trying to get through a first date without mentioning what you do for a living, or not using any words that contain the letter D; for me, the agony of having to twist and duck and constantly, think, think, think to avoid letting slip is just too much.
Kidney failure has spread its inky tendrils into every avenue of my life and there are only about four questions that any potential suitor could ask me that wouldn't necessitate an all-out lie or a response so vague I might as well just chuckle and say, "Well...how do you like them apples?" These are not ideal circumstances in which to foster a relationship, The most uncomfortable question of all, and one that I find comes up frequently on dates, is: "Would you like another drink?"
Disney has ruined my generation. It has made us believe that love and contentment is a birthright and surely it is only a matter of time before our prince arrives to capture our heart whether we be princess, mermaid or short, bony ginger girl alike. This is not reality. Some people are just not destined for this particular ilk of happiness and I do not believe it is in the stars for me. I have been fortunate, of course, to have been in relationships whilst being in end-stage kidney failure and they have all been with generous, kind men, but inevitably they are never able to exactly understand the often exquisitely painful and enduring ramifications of this condition; you end up feeling more alone than ever, misunderstood by the one person you desperately hoped would understand you the most.
I am too limiting, nobody would want to commit themselves to me. Nobody goes out to buy a washing machine and opts for the rusty, dusty, clunking model in the corner over the brand new shiny edition with the large tits. I am not bitter, and I am not saying that a relationship is beyond the realms of possibility in the future, if I ever get this home dialysis malarky off the ground...but I am realistic. I have kidney failure, and it occupies my thoughts, necessitates copious DVD watching, limits the time I spend with my friends and fails to excite me sexually...so I virtually have a boyfriend already.
If you have kidney failure, dating is not the straight-forward (albeit bone-crunchingly awkward) endeavour it should be. I am told by anyone concerned enough to give counsel that I should simply "not mention" my condition until I have at least managed to trick the guy into liking me and therefore made him more amenable to my incurable disease. This is not bad advice, but hard-earned experience has proved it is stupid. Imagine trying to get through a first date without mentioning what you do for a living, or not using any words that contain the letter D; for me, the agony of having to twist and duck and constantly, think, think, think to avoid letting slip is just too much.
Kidney failure has spread its inky tendrils into every avenue of my life and there are only about four questions that any potential suitor could ask me that wouldn't necessitate an all-out lie or a response so vague I might as well just chuckle and say, "Well...how do you like them apples?" These are not ideal circumstances in which to foster a relationship, The most uncomfortable question of all, and one that I find comes up frequently on dates, is: "Would you like another drink?"
Disney has ruined my generation. It has made us believe that love and contentment is a birthright and surely it is only a matter of time before our prince arrives to capture our heart whether we be princess, mermaid or short, bony ginger girl alike. This is not reality. Some people are just not destined for this particular ilk of happiness and I do not believe it is in the stars for me. I have been fortunate, of course, to have been in relationships whilst being in end-stage kidney failure and they have all been with generous, kind men, but inevitably they are never able to exactly understand the often exquisitely painful and enduring ramifications of this condition; you end up feeling more alone than ever, misunderstood by the one person you desperately hoped would understand you the most.
I am too limiting, nobody would want to commit themselves to me. Nobody goes out to buy a washing machine and opts for the rusty, dusty, clunking model in the corner over the brand new shiny edition with the large tits. I am not bitter, and I am not saying that a relationship is beyond the realms of possibility in the future, if I ever get this home dialysis malarky off the ground...but I am realistic. I have kidney failure, and it occupies my thoughts, necessitates copious DVD watching, limits the time I spend with my friends and fails to excite me sexually...so I virtually have a boyfriend already.
Comments
Post a Comment