The Business of Minding Your Own Business

OK Y’all,
So it’s been a while since I’ve posted, and that’s mainly due to the fact that I ain’t got squat to write about. This is what is known in common parlance as a proverbial “dry spell” for the ol’ Big E, and I gotta say, it’s been alright so far except for the fact that I cannot for the life of me get my Mater Familias off my back about being a SINK (Single Income, No Kids). See, I used to be quite proud of my immediate family because they never hounded me for a son-in-law or grandkids. They never said things like “when are you going to give me some sweet grandbabies to play with?” so I never had to reply with things like, “after you die” or “why should I when the rest of my family is so busy procreating out of wedlock?” So it worked out pretty well for the most part and I went on living the single life, blogging, and generally enjoying myself. Then suddenly the idea of being a DINK or a DICK (Dual Income No Kids or Dual Income Couple-a Kids) became the unflinching, laser focus of what I was lacking in my life by dear old Madre. Why, you ask? Because the two of us are thinking about starting a business and me being single is being singled out as the ONE reason why it’s not practical. Forget the fact that we know nothing about being small business owners, or that my dad has to approve all long term capital outlay that involves family money, or any of that. It’s the fact that, “well, honey, I just worry about you being able to pay your bills…if you had a husband this wouldn’t be a problem at all….” Right. So what if I did have a husband? Let’s entertain some scenarios for a minute. Scenarios that are all too common these days.
1. What if he was a big fat piece of shit who sat on his ass all day sucking up government funds while feigning and illness that’s incurable or permanently debilitating and I STILL couldn’t support myself because of this dead beat parked up on my couch? What then??? Yeah. Exactly.
2. What if he’s a guy who seems fine on the outside, and me being too proud to say anything, is secretly a wife beater or strung out on prescription pills all day and I struggle to cover up for him day in and day out while he acts like Gary Busey after a hard night on the Vegas strip in board meetings and ends up unemployed and living on my dime?? Ok. Great.
3. What if he’s a complete slimeball who cheats all over the place and ends up getting some bimbo preggers while I’m at the office slaving away trying to earn a buck to get him something nice for Christmas, and he comes home and announces he’s moving to Boca with Big Tits Betty and I am left holding the cards, the mortgage, and the car payment?? Would you be happy then? Fine. I’ll get right on that.
Long and short of it is folks, I’m not getting married any time soon. I’d have to meet Mr. Right immediately after you read this post and proceed to fast track it to a picket fence, and even then it’d be at least 6 months. So, let’s focus on what we can do—save up some money, get a nice little equity loan, find a business partner—and most of all, lay off Big E and her singlehood. There’s nothing I can do about it, and really nothing I want to do about it at this point. And that’s all good with me.