If you can be a Weed Nun, be a Weed Nun
If I said to you that becoming a mother is a life changing act, you wouldn’t blink twice.
Inheriting an elder is no where near as celebrated as adding to the population. It’s more of that “God’s Work” that every taxi driver tells me I’m doing that should “Shower me with Blessings”. Now, what I know about the Gods and which ones shower whom with what - I could finally decide what deity I want in my corner.
I believe in the ancestors and nature. I feel blessed by my mother who was happy with her United Church Trinity. They’re the Communists who followed Jesus’ teachings to question everything. I never felt blessed by that community, but it implanted a sense of wonder around devotion. Blind devotion. Cults.
Christian or not, I think most people are inundated with the religion of romance and will defend the right to love who they want till the apocalypse. An apocalypse they can conveniently blame on an angry God smiting us. Even atheists can be like - guess God’s real and off they acend.
Kinda felt like life insurance, like what we did here only mattered if teacher let us pass. That’s not my God, and I spent a lot of time looking for her. Meanwhile, life as a single lady in her twenties made me realize I had been converted to a religion I didn’t even know I had been.
I didn’t understand the need to partner off and repeat my parents’ lives. My sister did, almost to the letter. Met someone at Uni, long-engagement, financial maturity. What we want for the modern family. There was some kind of block for me; it felt like a later problem. I loved hanging out with my friends. Only to find out that hanging out with boys is a cock blocker.
And falling in love never stopped feeling like a later problem. I’m glad I was young in an era that was super fucked up about casual sex and the spread of AIDS, but at least everyone was talking about it. The teens of the 90s were supposed to be an experiment. In a lot of ways, there was a sweet spot in the Boomer-permitted Grunge culture that exposed our brains to rebellion.
The New Hippies, pot-smoking teens, pining for a rebel without a cause life. But also, we had a cause, banning CFCs. A big city teen life is only scary in retrospect, it’s a lot of allyways and trusting that your pot dealers pot dealer’s pot dealer was a white “pot should be legal” guy and not someone pretending to be in a movie. And I wouldn’t change a thing. The cornucopia of all-ages options we got to (sneak into) and legit go to: not just night clubs and live music, but who checks ID at a foreign film. I fight with anyone who says stoners are lazy and city kids grow up too fast. It was all about getting stoned in different locations. And getting away with it. The height of getting hassled by the Cops culture. It was my Woodstock, my Prom Queen was a lesbian. I can carry a bad-ass badge of pride. I got street cred. Got to love the rose coloured glasses. I would never do it again. No Body Swap movies for me.
I had way more fun with no prom date; there were a lot of fake tears and throw-up in the after-party. So much better than the heartache and drama of those photos I coveted from all those Brat Pack movies. A culture clash, the time of irony, we could be feminist and also want to fall in love with boys.
Except some of my first memories were actively deciding not to fall for the love and marriage scam- I present the:
AN Ongoing List of Memories I have that make me Nun material.
Grade 3: I become obsessed with superstitions and open an umbrella inside “By Mistake” after school because it means I won’t get married.
At a bachelorette, the bride asks me -directly- what I want for my wedding? And I realize I have no plan. She literally follows up with, “What do you think of when you go to sleep?” And I realize I craft my Oscar acceptance speech, outfit and celebrity plus one. Huh.
Remembering I should start trying to date, instead of waiting for a meet-cute, at the age of 25. Then never really following through on it. Never going on any apps cuz scary, except one time in LA - which is a whole other blog. Do Not Flex on the man’s Taco game, OK! Lesson learned
I got out of kissing a boy in a game of truth or dare by eating a mosquito.
TBC
The joke was, but I think it’s true, I fell in love with the movies, so everything else was going to come second. And the industry reiterated that relationships were unhealthy. Trying things on as my friends were settling down made me sad they were missing out.
Then it made me happy no one was around to watch me. I stopped smoking pot. I was fully embracing the Sex and the City life, ten years younger than the character until I was the characters age when they ended the show. I got double fuck around times. Not a single relationship to come out of it. Those were eye-opening times, and I credit the TV show, written for women, but made by gay men, as a template for a fabulous life of travel.
Way better than beer league and talking about what we can or can’t afford. Cars, houses, moving in with that special someone. Planning shit. Breakups over wanting kids, not wanting kids. Stuff we see on tv. I was a Spinster, but like a cool spinster, a spinster who does things.
That life gets old, and sticking around because it’s the only thing you know is lame. I fed my introvert for the first time in my life and craved more solitude. Devotion to a quieter life didn’t mean I was settling down, my wild oats time was longer for me than others. Time to find a partner to share a life with.
I still didn’t feel the need. I felt my whole body rejecting the idea of bringing someone else into my life.
“I thought love was only true in fairy tales, meant for someone else and not for me.” End of Song.
The more time I spent alone, the more I became comfortable with myself. I was settling up.
And this was the hardest part for me to understand. I knew from jump I was aromantic, never hid it, never had to come out because I was born in a sweet spot before casual sex was ruined by September 11th.
It was never that I was a bigger slut than my breeder friends. It was that I never found the one, and wasn’t waiting. I have a friend who had a kid without a partner in the 20s. Everything is possible. My biological clock never went off. Much to my delight! I flushed all my eggs into the crapper! I’M A HAG!!! (and lovin’ it).
I found my buddy pot in the pandemic, reprogrammed my brain pathways with weed and therapy, and didn’t feel like post-pandemic life was for me. Still no deep desire to partner.
Even when I was left holding the bag with my dad, I never thought, I wish I had a husband to help with this. Now? Is it because there is no such thing as a husband who is supportive enough to lessen the burden put on women of an age? Is it because I have a dog companion? Or is it that I’m just a spinster for life?
This is a mash-up of a bunch of things my friends said to me when I floated the idea that I have never had a relationship and don’t want one: “You’re the most romantic person I know, you never compromised, you have so much love, it’s just for all of us.” and this one - “Have you ever thought of being a nun?
Like all writers, being asked to hide away and read for the rest of your life - like the - "I think I’d thrive in Jail” attitude is tempting. But nun means Catholic or Buddhist or religion, and remember I junked that religious stuff when I found pot.
Wait. Then I looked up what a Ween Nun is and found my religion.
I don’t have their business or follow their spirituality; I write. But their philosophies mixed with The Nap Ministry make my solitude healthier than participating in the Caregiving Olympics.
The reason why I think this could work for you - my exhausted friend - is because performing normal is a drain. Taking care of someone you didn’t choose to bring into the world, that you didn’t choose a commitment to, but because it’s the right thing to do - isn’t fun because you’re pretending to be in a relationship you don’t want to be in.
I can’t imagine that also being the primary relationship you have with another. I am perfect Nun material, not marriage material. The weed just makes it all way more fun.