My Biological Alarm(ing) Clock

You know the phrase, "My Biological Clock is ticking!"?

I don't.
I know the phrase, "My Biological Alarm is going off! AND I KEEP HITTING THE SNOOZE BUTTON!"

My genetic makeup is such that I will always enjoy the company of my friends. I will, most likely, always enjoy the occasional dips into the pool of Chemical Substances. I don't want to cut either of those out of my life entirely, but I am becoming increasingly aware of the futility of "the scene." I've said all this before. I usually stop there, but tonight I feel like taking this point through its logical progression. (Please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle. Do not disembark until the ride has come to a complete stop.)

I want to settle down. I want someone to find enough worth in me to pledge unconditional love. I want to have fights without anticipating a break up. I want to fight over the remote control. I want someone to acknowledge the fact that I had a hard day and tell me "good job," and cuddle. I want someone to back up my parental decisions and occasionally tell the kids, "You heard your Mom." I want someone to notice when I make the bed.

I have, almost overnight, developed the compulsion of checking the ring fingers of strangers' hands to see if there's a band there. Everyone who appears to be over the age of 18 is getting their left hands covertly ogled by me. Young, old, fat, skinny, balding, wearing socks with sandals, it doesn't matter. I am so interested in knowing who is part of this elusive club.

I'm pa"NIK"ing.
It's all too much, it's way too soon, but I just want to secure a place in that big Happily Ever After. NOT ANYTIME SOON, mind you, but maybe one day. You know, in that window of opportunity right between pigs flying and hell freezing over- that's when I see it happening.

This entry is such a mess.