In Which I Ramble About Inconsequentials

I was in fine fettle for the last several days, Gentle Reader. At Teaberry, we’ve all been gearing up for the opening this Friday, and surprisingly, given our collective head-meat, three out of four of us have been productive at any given time. This, in itself, is a triumph.


Therefore, of course, it couldn’t last. S. and P. are both lying down, weary, in pain; all my vigor and gumption drained out of me, like a leaking waterbed, until all I feel up to is staring at a wall; The Colonel is working on one of his pieces for the show, but reluctantly.

We may soon have company. No one particularly feels up to dealing with people. One of our potential guests is the lady who I mentioned way back in Post the Seventh.



We haven’t actually encountered one another since; I’m not expecting a confrontation. Frankly, I’m rather apathetic about the whole situation – I won’t make a fuss, or a scene. I can be perfectly cordial. I just hope that she doesn’t expect there to be any intimacy between us; her expecting — demanding – that we be closer than I’ve ever felt to her is part of the whole problem.


I’ve been feeling very Sunset Boulevard the last few days, in happier news. I’ll keep thinking about trying to scrape together a beau or two, and then I remember – I’m a rapidly aging divorcée, and it behooves me to act like it. However, it doesn’t behoove me, and it isn’t precisely accurate; I’m only 27, and while, according to all the stereotypes that I’ve ever heard, 30 is dead, in gay years, it’s really not that old. My mother didn’t even marry until she was a few months away from 30.  Still, laying on the chaise in a ridiculously oversized dressing gown, in the dark, obsessing over trivia, and being ridiculously dramatic seems to appeal.


My version of a “Selfie”

Pfffft. I ought to be working on one of the several irons that I have in the fire.  Here, I’ll leave you with this excellent song.

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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5 Responses to In Which I Ramble About Inconsequentials

  1. Bernie says:

    if 30 is dead, what is 40? 😉

  2. ekgo says:

    This: I’m a rapidly aging divorcée, and it behooves me to act like it.
    cracked me up. Mostly because I’m mean but also because it’s just funny. I get to say that because I’m a lot older than you are and have all that wisdom and stuff. I can be all condescending and crap and there’s nothing you can do about it.
    Also, though, I’m probably a little jealous. I loved LOVED being single. I tell Gabe the only reason I married him was because I was as happy with him as I was without him. Oddly, he understands and that’s probably why he married me. Still. I don’t actually enjoy being MARRIED so perhaps some of my laughing at you is sad envy on my part.

    • Tyler J. Yoder says:

      I am terrible at being single, if dates and meeting new people are how one measures that. Really, though, the thing I like best about Ex-Husband is that we can go months, or a year, without speaking, and then still have the easy intimacy we’ve always had, and that means that I don’t have to change my habits or worry about compromise or anything.

      I also just love throwing the term divorcée around. It’s only vaguely appropriate, but I love it. It makes me feel mysterious, naughty, a bit of a societal rebel. I have these long flowing silk pants that I made, which I insist on calling my fabulous divorcée pants. They’re terrific.

      I am totally picturing you as Lady Catherine De Bourgh, at the moment, and so I can appreciate your condescension and it’s totally fine. Except that you’re not terrible, and she was, and also I don’t want to identify with Mr. Collins because he was a twit.

      • ekgo says:

        I was aiming for more a Grandmother Mingot approach, but ok. I’ll take Lady Catherine. She’s a mean, old bitch and I like that in a lady.

        I…yeah, I don’t think you can measure one’s success at singledom by a person’s ability to date and meet people. Those are two different things. Being successful at singledom entails being happy to be single, being able to be single without guilt and being able to resist societal pressures to find a mate based on not needing a mate instead of basing the resistance on general obstinacy. Meeting people and going on dates – that’s more like…well, war, I guess. Being successful in war means not being killed, first off, and then probably also getting most of what you wanted with the fewest losses. I’m not sure; I’ve never been in war. But I’ve been in dating and boy howdy was it miserable. I hated it. I like meeting new people if I’m not expected to impress those people. See, here’s how I go into it (and this is very unhealthy so don’t try this at home): I go into every new situation assuming that all unknown entities involved hate me. Ok, maybe not hate, but they all don’t like me…which is generally true of people you’ve just met – they don’t like you. Why would they? They don’t know you? But I like to amp it up to active dislike and use that as my reason to not care about what they think of me. If they already don’t like me, I have nothing to lose and can, therefore, just be my normal self. Because what are they going to do? Dislike me? The best part of this plan is that my behavior is usually mistaken for confidence (sometimes snobbery) and then people want to talk to me and they sometimes wind up liking me and that’s when I freak out because they just ruined everything.
        Wow. I am mental.

        I want long, flowing silk pants. I’m a divorcee! A remarried divorcee. What are those called, officially?

        • Tyler J. Yoder says:

          I think that you’re just a spouse, at that point. I’m not sure. A widow doesn’t stop being a widow if she remarries, does she? These problems haven’t come up in at least six decades, so it’s difficult to say.You can totally have pants like that, though, if you want. There’s only one seam; they are the best, and easy to make.

          You’re not mental. Well, maybe you are, because we get along so well, but you’ve effectively described my philosophy towards meeting new people, so I think perhaps you’re a mentalIST – someone with psychic powers.

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