Married, Filing Jointly?

Seriously, I hate this time of year. And before y’all try to play me like I don’t like it because Valentine’s Day is coming up and I’m single, kill yourself. That’s not why. I am not one of those single people. Maybe because I actually enjoy being single rather than just saying that until some man comes along that makes me abandon my friends, my interests and generally my own identity, I don’t begrudge anyone their happiness. I think its cute to see couples all giggly and googly eyed. Certainly anyone who knows what that feels like wouldn’t want to keep someone from that.

In short, I ain’t that bitter single bitch.

But really though, there is something about this time of the year that reminds me that I am, apparently, a failure in life. That always lets me know that no matter how hard I am grinding, no matter how much life I am living, no matter how much I am accomplishing and achieving, I really ain’t shit.

And that time, ladies and gentleman, is tax season.

Seriously though, why does the government hate me? No, really. If you are single, childless, and don’t own a home, you are invisible during this season. You don’t exist. The government doesn’t give you tax breaks, accountants don’t market their services to you, hell online services don’t even bother charging you for your tax return; it’s just too damn easy.

You know, cuz you have nothing to show for your life.
In short, you’re unpatriotic.

Or something.

It’s as though everything is designed to make you want to marry and pop bubble headed baby seals outta your poor uterus and buy houses you can’t afford that have lawns you don’t want to mow. And if you DON’T do those things, well, you get punished. And God forbid that, like me, you have more than one job. I was actually punished this year for working TOO hard…

…to the tune of a little over $400.

For my sad, pathetic, little single person bank account, that’s ALOT away from my tax return! Wtf?!

Let me get this straight…

You won’t let me claim my dog as a dependent? (What? That bitch gotta eat everyday and go to the doctor just like I do. And if you think for a second that I am eating lamb on a regular basis like she is, YOU’RE HIGH.)
I can’t deduct my shoes as a medical expense. (What?! God shouldn’t have made me short.)
And because I have NO desire to be a homeowner I get NOTHING? (For real though, I am more apt to sleep with a contractor than be in any way interested in paying them to fix my house. Sex is free! And fun {when it’s safe. Wrap it up.}!)

This is some bullshit.

So as if it wasn’t bad enough that I have to sit through countless pop culture assaults on my choices, baby showers with no liquor, and weddings that will be over before they pay off the credit card bills, even the GOVERNMENT is playing the role of my mother and wanting me to get married and start breeding?

Can you let me live?!

I sat here today, looking at my tax return, wondering if I have done things right with my life. Sure, I’ve made it to 25 with no baby daddies and no divorces. I’ve travelled and achieved and made friends and networked and drank and relaxed and eaten and loved and lost and everything else. But seriously, is it all for nothing?

The IRS certainly seems to think so.

I get it. I do. Everything is designed so that we procreate and propogate the species. Science and biology and all that. And it seems as though the break neck pace at which everyone needs to “accomplish” the husband/wife/kids/house thing is speeding up year after year. Before you know it, people are going to start having joint high school graduation/bridal showers.

So I recognize that anything I do outside of what is considered the norm, will garner me the confused head tilt. You know the one; where you tell someone you are single/unmarried/childless and they tilt their head to the side, their eyes all soft and sympathetic, they probably pat your arm patronizingly and say, “Oh it will happen for you.”

No thank you, Stepford hoe.

In theory, I understand it all. But I would be lying if I said that, for a moment there, looking at my tax return, lamenting once again my lack of achievement in God and the IRS’ eyes this year, I wondered if I was doing the right things with my life.

Then I remembered that, if I want to, I can blow the whole damn thing on Sephora, shoes, and strippers.

And all was right in the world again.

🙂

p.s. The only reason I even got a return is because of the astronomical payments I make towards my student loans. It seems like a cruel joke; I pay Sallie too much, she bends me over without dinner or proper lubrication and I get a couple hundred bucks afterwards. Gtfoh.