Girls weren’t into me in school but I believed that one day, maybe through work or something, I find a great woman and we’d go out for a while and then we’d get married.

We would have a child or two and live out in the suburbs. I’d do dad things like play catch, throw a football around, get suckered into tea parties with Mr. Flopsy and Mrs. Patchquilt. My wife would do wife things and make me do wife things just to be fair.

We’d have friends and throw New Years parties and Halloween parties and have family over for Thanksgiving and Christmas. We would head off on vacations and have fun but tiring times.

The kids would get married and have kids of their own and we’d do the grandparent thing and spoil the kids rotten.

At some point, I guess, I would pass away surrounded by my family.

None of that happened. I have been married, but they never worked out very well. I never had kids of my own. I don’t even have friends so there’s no point in throwing parties.

Some people have no regrets; I have nothing but. I wouldn’t recommend it.



Most of what I know about anything comes from television. I don’t mean things like… Well, I’m not even sure how to describe it. Let’s say general life things. What I get from television is more of a… unusual knowledge. Trivia, sort of. It’s probably not even what I’m supposed to take away from what I’m watching, but there you go.

My dad was a fan of the classics: The Three Stooges, The Marx Brothers, the “Road” movies with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, and more. He encouraged me to watch them and, probably, like them. So much so that when I was young (say, 7 to 9 or so) and the local station was playing a Marx Brothers movie at midnight or 2AM or whatever, he would wake me up if I asked and let me watch for fifteen minutes until I fell asleep again.

I don’t know anyone that would do that for their kid, especially knowing the youngster would just fall right back asleep again. There were a lot of reasons to love my dad, and that was one of them. I don’t think he ever knew just how much that meant to me.

Anyway, one of the things that would crop up occasionally (aside from all men wearing hats, ice being delivered to the home and other things that we don’t really think about these days) are ‘mail order brides.’

Mail order brides tend to crop up in westerns. Women from the East coast moving out West to marry some guy they’ve never met. The man would, from what I can tell, select a woman from a catalog and then they’d write letters back and forth until it was agreed that they’d get hitched. I’m not really sure what the woman got out of it or why they would sell themselves that way.

One day, I wondered if they were still a thing. Do women still list themselves in a catalog in the hopes of getting married? It turns out that some do. Technically, I guess all dating sites are sort of mail order bride/groom sites. Women from different countries can be part of a ‘dating’ site in the hopes of moving to a different country and getting married. The first few that I found were set up to match Ukranian women to men in the west (what a coincidence). In this case, though, it was western countries and not the Wild West.

I looked at a few profiles and saw some very beautiful women with college degrees and what sounded like very good jobs. For the most part, they could speak several languages (with English being one of them). It was at that point that I realized that I really had nothing to offer these ladies except for a ticket to America. I mean, they were pretty, they were smart, they had good jobs. Coming here to marry me would be a step down.

So, my idle curiousity sated, I forgot about it for several years. I was married twice to women that could only be described as mentally unbalanced. I mean that in a very serious sense. One of them was only slightly off, but the later one was bi-polar and, probably, suffered from borderline personality disorder.

Since then, I’ve been alone. I don’t get out much since going out alone doesn’t excite me. I have no friends, so there’s no one to go out with. I work in an industry that is primarily (and stupidly) male so there’s no one to meet. I’ve been signed up for dating sites but I’m hesitant to make the first move. Most of this stems from a fear of finding another person like my second wife because that was the most trying, and worst, time of my life. I could literally write pages upon pages of what I went through. I am still deeply damaged by that time and I don’t even realize just how deep it is.

But I’m alone. And it sucks. So I started thinking about those Ukranian mail order brides again. Would it be such a terrible thing? Even if they’re sole purpose in latching on to me was to get citizenship here, at least I would know that up front. Maybe if I married young enough and kicked the bucket they would get my life insurance and have a fairly decent time of it. That wouldn’t be a terrible thing, would it? They would get a foot into the US, and I would have a reason to go out and show them all kinds of things, have dinner, watch movies, and who knows what else. Because I’ll do all those things for someone else, I just won’t do them for me. That would be something, right?

Unfortunately, it would involve taking trips out of the country. I don’t have a passport and I lost my love of flying when the airlines decided they should pack people on a flight like cattle and then treat them like shit by staying out on the tarmac for hours at a time with no regard to life, limb, or sanity. Maybe, though, that would be good for me, too.


In the US, we’ll be celebrating Independance Day or, also known as, The Fourth of July. It’ll be a day full of families and friends gathering around to picnic, grill, and watch explosions in the sky.

That’s great for people who have families and friends. I don’t. So I’ll be doing a lot of nothing except for being happy that I live in the US. I’ve never lived anywhere else so I’m kind of fond of it for nostalgic reasons.

I was never big on fireworks, though. They’re neat and all when you get to see them, but I don’t go out of my way to see them. I guess it’s a bigger thing when you have a family and take them out and the kids enjoy them. The universe has made it quite clear that these are not meant to be for me.

No, what I get to do is to enjoy my day(s) off and look at Facebook with everyone else posting pictures of what a wonderful time they’re having with their families and what-not. I probably sound bitter. I am.

I mean, I’m not overly bitter. I don’t walk around muttering to myself about how shitty life is and how I wish everyone else was as miserable as I am. I don’t even think that and I’m genuinely happy that other people appear to be having an enjoyable life. Sometimes, though, it’s hard to look at what other people have and not wish that I could have something like that, too.

People may look at my life and think that I make a good living, I can afford to buy stupid things. I don’t have to worry about spending money on family things or kid things or whatever. Or, maybe, they’re envious that I don’t report to anyone; that I can do whatever I want, when I want and don’t have to explain it or justify it. I get my ‘alone’ time.

Except, I don’t want my alone time. I’ve had enough of it. I’d rather be out doing something with someone, enjoying them enjoying themselves. I won’t do things for me, but I’m more than happy do something for someone else. That’s the way I’m wired, I guess. It’s a shame. I could, I think, make someone very happy and secure. But somebody would need to take a chance on me and that’s never going to happen.