Exiles
Between Texas and motherhood, I am dull as fuck.
I arrived in Dallas a little over a year ago. Within weeks of my arrival, I evicted a tiny person from his comfy home in my gut. Since then, I have contributed my fair share to keeping this ship of fools afloat. Meanwhile I have tried to maintain our ties to the homeland while also attempting to build some kind of life in Dallas.
Okay, let’s just be honest here. I don’t know how much effort one can honestly say I have put into building a life. There was that one disastrous Meetup The Husband and I attended. All I can say about that is that I am certain that there was, somewhere in the world, a more humorless group of pretentious assclowns to be met, but I’m not sure how we might have found them. Other than that, though, between my own doubts about the city and The Husband’s avowed dislike, Dallas hasn’t had much of a chance.
In my defense, Texas hasn’t really put her best foot forward. There was the summer, a hellish death march that was one of the worst on record. I finally starting counting the temperature cumulatively, so on day 34 of 100+ degree temperatures I described it as “3400 degrees.” Frankly, when you’re that goddamn hot for that goddamn long, it all makes sense. There is this drought thing that has rendered everything brown and dead looking for many, many months. I am so tired of fucking sunshine that it does not bear mention. There is the traffic and the drivers, which is abominable. Seriously, nothing in this fucking city is worth that much effort to get there.
Of course there is the insurmountable issue with Dallas: the difficulty of living so far from loved ones. During the months and months when it seemed our lovely child would never sleep through the night, I longed for the ability to leave him with any one of his loving grandparents for an overnight.
It should go without saying that there are good things about Dallas. Economy is better. Crime is lower (I think). Winters are milder. Whatever. None of these really offset the reality of our life here.
Which is boring as shit.
The Husband and I have each other. Together we have the kid who is a source of constant source of amusement and joy. We have a few friends. The fact remains that we rarely leave our shitty apartment. We find things to do and explore, but what can I say? This ain’t our town.
I have waited and waited for something to cut through the fog of not generalized not giving a fuck that clouds everything outside my own family circle. Finally, I have given up. It seems that if a fuck is e’er to be given again, it’s going to require active participation on my part.
So. This is me. Giving a fuck. Yeah.
