The other day I woke up with a pimple on my chin. Truth is I’m too old for this. Too old for this manner of unpleasant surprise. I’m not thirteen anymore. Not twice thirteen, even. That ship has long sailed.
I had an old boyfriend once upon a time who used to joke about my being Christmas cake. It’s Japanese slang for a woman who is over 25 and still unmarried. Just like a cake that’s uneaten past December 25.
Offensive? Sure. And in my case, inaccurate. Since I was over 25, to be sure, but I was far from unmarried. I was married, and so was he. Although we were both available and dating. That’s something you get used to pretty quickly when you’re polyamorous. The old paradigms start to make less sense. You’re always muddying the waters just for being the way you are.
That’s part of why so many people are put off by what you do when you’re polyamorous. You’re muddying waters that they would prefer stay clear. Because when waters are clear, they at least seem safer. Since you can clearly see what’s moving under the surface.
The trouble is that you can’t look at everything at once of course. But people tend to forget that when they see murky waters setting in and start freaking out about what could be moving underneath.
Anyway, it’s been a long time since I passed the 25th. And while I’m not unmarried, I’m still too old for this. Too old to wake up with an infuriating zit.
I’m glad my teenage self didn’t know this could happen. That she could still be dealing with breakouts decades later. It probably would have been too much for her, the knowledge that many of the everyday irritations she was barely tolerating in the short term would be still there years later. Longer than she’d been alive.
I’m glad she didn’t know, to be honest. Because maybe I’m too old for this, to be fussing over an unwelcome clogged pore. But for the most part, my life is pretty darn good. And I’m lucky.
Sometimes it’s good to not realize how long you’ll be dealing with something. And just to deal with it instead, with no expectation that you know when and how it ends.
Books by Page Turner: