Earlier today I posted about a 26-Minute Memoir writing exercise I recently ran across. I’ve now completed the exercise, and while it didn’t turn out as I envisioned it might, I’m going to post what I produced. Honestly, when I started off writing about being a loner (and perhaps, lonely) child, I had no idea it would head in the direction in which it did.
While not the result I’d hoped for, here’s what I wrote about my life in 26 minutes:
26-Minute Memoir
“Go outside and play,” my mother implores.
I walk out the front door, pouting.
I don’t like to go outside to look for people to play. I’d rather be inside reading. Or playing with the cat.
I sit outside on the curb in front of our house on a cul-de-sac. I think of a nursery rhyme, repeating over and over in my head, and then, after several repetitions, very quietly, out loud:
“Nobody likes me.
Everybody hates me.
I think I’ll go eat worms.”
As I repeat the mantra, I create patterns with a stick in the dirt and leaves that have collected beside the curb. I look across the cul-de-sac at Eddie Baker, a popular boy a year older, playing basketball in his driveway. Eddie Baker would never like me. No one would ever like me. I wonder what worms taste like.
Later, I fall in love with Bernie Lane, a boy I meet working part-time as a checker at a grocery store while I’m in college. Bernie was a tennis player who dreamed of going pro. In the meantime, he went to community college and worked as a stocker at the grocery store. Little did Bernie know, I had started a relationship with another boy we worked with at the grocery store, Joe Lindy. Joe went to college with me, real college, not community college, in a nearby town. When we went away to school, we dated. I had a boyfriend at school, and a boyfriend when I went home on the weekends. I dated two boys at the same time who worked together and were good friends.
Everybody loved me. And soon would hate me. They didn’t sell worms in the meat section of the grocery store.
At my first real job after undergraduate school, I met Jeff Houseman. Jeff was married at the time, and I was seeing someone who physically abused me, so Jeff and I were platonic. But he was handsome and nice. And oh so vulnerable. After Jeff got divorced, or rather during his divorce, Jeff and I started dating. His soon-to-be ex-wife was not happy.
“Please tell me you’re not dating Elle. Anyone but Elle.”
It didn’t occur to me at the time it wasn’t very nice of Jeff to tell me his wife had said this to him. Jeff would later dump me for another woman, whom he would marry.
Nobody likes me. Where’s that can of worms?
Ten years later, Jeff would profess his undying love for me, and we’d carry on a years-long on-again off-again affair. I grew so weary of my inability to end things, I told his wife. I knew he’d never forgive me and there’d be no chance of him ever seeing me again, even if I wanted to continue the soul-crushing relationship.
It worked. Jeff didn’t like me. His wife didn’t like me. Worms were my only friends.
I’d bounce from man to man over the next 10 years, but none of the relationships lasted. I ended most of them, having allowed myself to get involved, yet again, with the wrong man. Wrong because they were married. Or too old. Too young. Too unemployed. Too alcoholic. Too prescription-drug dependent. One of them, Bill McCann, dumped me.
“There’s just something missing. There’s no spark.”
He married the woman he dated after me.
Here I am at 50, never married, and mother to three black cats. Do I regret my choices? Some of them. Do I wish I’d married one of the men I’d dated along the way? I wish I had married the men I’d wanted those men to be along the way. I don’t regret not marrying the men they were.
I call myself an Unconfirmed Bachelorette, but as the years pass, I’m considering giving up the “Un” and making a firm commitment. How would my life be different if I changed the title of my blog to Confirmed Bachelorette? Would giving up the conventional idea of happily ever after free me up to live my unconventional life more happily? More fully? Without holding back?
I think I need to give this 26-minute thing another go. In the meantime, what do you think: should I give up the “Un”?
Related articles
- Thinking About Writing (unconfirmedbachelorette.com)
The Un can come and go? I so much love your: mother to three black cats! 🙂
LikeLike
Yes, it can! And it will, to be sure. Thanks, Bente! Best wishes in the new year!
LikeLike
I think giving up the -un on a trial basis is worth a shot to see how you feel about it. Just don’t let the -un define you….and stay away from the worms….
LikeLike
Maybe that’s the key, good2begone: not letting the UN define me one way or the other. I no longer care for worms. When I was younger and would go fishing, I’d dig my own worms and bait my own hook. Not any more.
LikeLike
Worms are not affecting your health, no probs with you eating worms – it is just a premature revenge for the time after your death, when they will eat you … 😉
We DO eat chicken and we DO eat fish – both are feeding of worms – so we eat worms second hand anyway – unless we are vegetarian or like an uncle of mine avoid poultry and fish.
I think you should KEEP your un-
WHY?
When the first thing that came to mind to write about was your experience with men and how “nobody likes you” – and nobody refers only to your prospective or even real partners – you are not yet beyond that un- it still busies your mind.
LikeLike
Fran, I shall be cremated, so there will be no worms eating me! You make a good argument for giving up both chicken and fish. But I’m guessing I’ve eaten more than one worm in my greens, like it or not.
Excellent point about why I should keep the UN. It struck me as rather odd that’s what came up in my memoir free-writing. Annoying that I can’t move beyond wanting a romantic partner. I should be more evolved. (Insert irony emoticon.)
LikeLike
Keep the 26 minute thing – you’re as ‘un’ as you want to be!
LikeLike
Thanks! It was an interesting experiment. You’re right: the “un” is mutable.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on What I love about Life and commented:
Enjoyed this, love your openness.
LikeLike
Thank you so much, Shelly. It’s a blessing and a curse. I’m glad you enjoyed it. 😉
LikeLike
What is it with married men? Been there, sigh. Loved this
LikeLike
His wife stayed with him, even after learning I wasn’t the first. I don’t understand that either. Thank you!
LikeLike
The “UN” definitely does not define you. And it’s okay to try-on as many “UN”s or NON “UN”s as you like.
LikeLike
I’m an “UN” flip-flopper. And that’s my prerogative. 🙂
LikeLike
I really like this post. I may even try the exercise myself. Having said that, why is your autobiography all about the men you dated? Would you try it again but make men taboo in the second version?
LikeLike
Hahaha No idea how that happened! I’ll do another. And thanks!
LikeLike