Babies and all that jazz

Y'A

I don't know what letter the media assigned to my generation, but I consider people "my age" to be between 30-40. My circle of friends is refreshingly progressive. There is only one married couple in the bunch. The rest of us are either single or serially monogamous, but never getting to the U-Haul stage. It's pretty awesome to have Sunday Funday without waiting on babysitters. Ahhh the good life. Imagine my utter shock when, upon arriving at MID-THIRTIES, some of us (mostly the men) are suddenly talking about settling down. I don't know where they are getting this from. It must be in a Playboy or Men's Health because it basically reads like a script. "You know, I'm getting close to 40 so I'm thinking about settling down. We are the same age. You know what I mean?" No actually I don't. I, unlike most women, don't consider age a precipitating factor in my decision to marry. I have always wanted to have kids and even my rapidly declining egg production is not pushing the issue. This all makes me feel weird. A Peter Pan of sorts. And why aren't my female friends going through the same biological clock bullshit? Talking to these guys makes me feel old.

Maybe these male friends of mine waited so long to be mature that it all rushes them at once. One of my best guy friends asked me if he should ask out a single mom we know. She will never say yes because he is the most immature person that I know. He recently got a dog and I have no issue admitting I'm concerned about the well-being of this dog. I wouldn't trust him with a plant. I tried to tell him the single mom is awesome yes, but her son is like 12 now. He is basically a lil man and old enough to call out bullshit. The real problem I have is his reasoning for wanting to date her. He said "at my age, I don't know if I will ever get married or have kids so I think she is the type of person I should be dating." What the fuck does that even mean? I don't know what's going on with people in their thirties having a midlife crisis, but I cannot sympathize. I still have money to waste and wine to drink before I start feeling lonely and settle down to have babies and all that jazz.

Jess

This mid-life crisis business is hitting my friends a bit early. One female, 27, has already been married, bought and sold a house, and gotten divorced. So I guess you could say her practical age is accelerated. Instead of stepping back and enjoying singlehood, she’s been on a mission to find Mr. Right 2.0 and decided literally two weeks ago that she’s tired of renting and is going to buy a house. She’s already put an offer in and will be devastated if it falls through. Her boyfriend of 6 months must be shitting himself by now, knowing the next step will be the invite to keep his personal affects in several drawers at her new home. Soon after, she’ll let him know there’s just no reason to leave anymore, why not bring the rest of his stuff and settle in for the long haul. Oddly enough, I haven’t heard the K word being whispered. I think she just feels that in her str8 and narrow world, this is what she should be doing right now at this point in her life.  Which leads me to the BFF.

Last we saw her, she was recently enGAGed and loving the word FIANCE. This has not changed, it has merely accelerated. The wedding is 2/3 planned and it isn’t until next summer. New furniture keeps mysteriously showing up in her rental home. All in anticipation of the FIANCE moving in ‘soon’. Mind you, he owns his own home that he will be giving up to undergrad renters hell bent on keg stands in order to placate her need to live in the city. So they need more storage space – hence the new china cabinet.  He will need a room of his own in which to do ‘guy’ things (read jerk off to geek porn) so the basement has been cleaned out and a new couch arrived promptly. It’s like someone else’s life blew through her house and suddenly she’s trying it on for size, testing out the waters of spending recklessly (his money) and rolling the words ‘US/WE’ around in her mouth, getting a feel for the union.

I hate to nit-pick (not really, it’s my favorite pastime), but to recap this epic romance – 1. They dated for a little over a year and fought for half of it. 2. They painfully broke up for 5 months. 3. Death of a beloved pet bred reconciliation and 7 months later – engaged. If anything in this life seems rushed, it’s this engagement. I wonder if women look in the mirror and at the first sight of a grey hair, run screaming into the arms of the first available bachelor, convinced it was kismet and begin the process that ends with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence.

Life flashes by in a millisecond and to feel that you are not in the right place within it, when really you are exactly where you should be, because you stand in this moment now, is unfortunately why these men and women are in the throes of a crisis. Rushing to the end of one’s life means only that you haven’t enjoyed the journey along the way. 

Single Parent Guilt

I am a lesbian. I have cats. The second point was probably obvious. My cats were born of my previous LTR.  As a product of gay divorce, they have taken over the apartment and completely dominate our shared environment. If Chobee wants to lie in the sink, who am I to stop her? If Luxie wants to walk all over me and smoosh her face into mine at 4am, what can I say? If Zeke….well he’s the baby and always perfect so, no complaints. Our family was broken and their other mom lives 600 miles away (fine with me) and so I have absorbed all the guilt of being a single parent to three rambunctious kitties. They have a step-mom (of course, who didn’t see that coming) who loves them dearly, but does not share my lackadaisical parenting.  She arms herself with the spray bottle, waiting patiently for one to jump on the table or scratch at the couch or try to eat our mac n cheese and BAM mist to kitty face. I keep thinking that tomorrow will be the day I start to discipline them again, but alas tomorrow never comes.  If we’d had to split a daughter, I swear she’d be knocked up and on meth by now.  I’m thankful there was no lengthy custody battle. I’m thankful I was able to keep them all with me. I’m thankful that my girlfriend understood early on that my kitties are always #1. But DAMN if these cats don’t take full advantage of that fucking divorce.    

The Virgin

When I was 18, I introduced my then girlfriend to my best friend of 3 years. We attended college together and I really wanted them to like each other. For reasons unbeknownst to me, that didn't work out. After the meeting, the gf said something I never forgot, but actually never thought about again: "She's in love with you". This was ridiculous. Joyce wasn't gay. I, myself, was just creeping into that minute path in life called bisexuality. I thought my gf was being territorial as usual. 

When I graduated college, Joyce unceremoniously stopped speaking to me. When my mom died, she was unreachable. When I was banished to Brooklyn, she was on another planet ignoring me and I couldn't understand it. By the time I finally broke up with my gf, I didn't give any care to reaching out to Joyce.
Imagine my surprise when 3 years ago a friend of a HS friend of mine invites me to a surprise birthday party. She asked if I could find anyone else from HS, namely Joyce. I said I would try, but don't hold her breath. That's how Joyce and I began speaking again. She came to the party and we sparked up the whole friendship again. It wasn't the same, but it was cool to have her around again. We hung out; went to the gym together; just talked. It took a month to sense something was off with Joyce. I asked if she was dating and she said she was still a virgin. Mind blown.

She offered to go with me to lesbian bars and dinner on Saturday nights. I'm still oblivious. One such night after dinner on our way to Ginger's she let it slip that she considers me her teddy bear and dreamt we would be friends again. I said "you what!" She explained by pantomiming hugging a teddy bear . . . . At the bar, she was on me like glue. She wouldn't let me talk to any girls. This still wasn't it. I was still oblivious. That is until we went to the gym one Sunday. This is the routine: gym, then quick bite. This Sunday I told her to pick the after gym eats. She tells me the reservation isn't for a half an hour. Reservation? Why on earth would she get a reservation for a post gym sweaty meal? We walk to the restaurant and it is packed. We wait at the bar for the table. I am viewing the scene. Small, intimate place. Nice. White table cloth on the tables. I'm under dressed. I see couples and happy families everywhere. What day is this? A cold, blistery Sunday attracted all of these people. I go to the restroom and all I see are more couples. Oh shit, it dawns on me. It's Valentine's day. I was beside myself. We get sat and all of the surrounding tables and the server is treating us like we are a couple. I silently weep inside. 

After that ambush Valentine date, I had a plan. Joyce needs a boyfriend. I know a religious guy from work and I thought they would be perfect for each other. They could worship God together in virginal bliss. Joyce probably sensed my relief at them hitting it off because she amped it up a notch. Every time we hung out she made damn sure she made her presence felt. Long awkward hug after long awkward hug made me avoid her at all costs. I would have nightmares of her running her hands up and down my back. She actually did this every time we saw each other. We had to have "The Talk". I asked her to meet me. This was murder cause she was so concerned about my allergies. I was just trying to break up with her for God's sake. We meet up and I asked her why she stopped speaking to me when I graduated. She said "because you had your gf". I replied "what does that mean Joyce? I had my gf for 3 years. That didn't stop us hanging out." She said "well you had your gf, and your nephew and Gabriel so . . . " My frustration was mounting. Going backwards and forwards with her faulty logic was giving me a headache. I had to cut to the chase. I said "look, I don't understand how my having a gf stopped us from talking before, but you need to understand you make me feel uncomfortable. I don't want you to touch me. You need to stop acting like you are my gf or I'm never going to speak to you again". She got weepy. When we left she said some more weird shit and I told her that is exactly what I was talking about. She begged for me to continue speaking to her. She came in for a chester molester hug and I walked away. 

After this "break up", I hoped never to be felt up by Joyce again. No such luck. She did this shit in front of her bf even. At some point I had to realize she probably had no control over how she was making me feel. She would send me wispy texts about the moon and the stars and the sky and a whole bunch of weepy bullshit. Just my luck, she is still dating my work friend. I had to tell her via text that I have been nice and one more text I will cease to be. I have to send her a warning text that I will be at a work function if i know he is going just so she can adjust to fact that she will see me and I will avoid her. She has yet and never will tell her bf why the person who hooked them up no longer speaks to her. That makes this situation all the more weird. I gotta say, this entire situation angered me and made me feel all kinds of ways, but I feel nothing about losing my best friend again. This situation was so creepy and molestory that I will be happy never to have her hands on me again. Another BFF bites the dust.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

In two weeks, my ex's son turns 18. Monumental? No. Sentimental? Yes. A little over three years ago, my ex, Michelle, said I could no longer see Gabriel. Why? Because she read his emails and discovered he told me he is bisexual. I always imagined a kid coming out to his parents, a parent that had an approximate ten year lesbian relationship, would be easy. It wasn't. The story he told made me cry. She didn't accept him. Then I remembered his parent is my ex. While I told him via email to be safe with his body and his heart, she told him it is just a phase. She read his emails and determined my acceptance of him was a negative influence. That's it. I told her I would oblige her wishes, but she would have to be the one to tell Gabriel. I told her he will be 18 soon. He has my email and my phone number and when he is 18, I would be happy to hear from him. 

I am not stupid and I am not holding my breath. Gay divorce is bloody. So bloody, that for me to get to the point where I could see Gabriel, I had to negotiate with Michelle for a long time to get her to let me spend Sundays with him. Michelle told me the last time we "met", while lying in my bed, the only reason why she is with her current fiance is because she is "the mother of a son and needs to stop hating men". That's an interesting reason to be straight. When it was finally over [for good], she refused to let me see him. She knew I loved him as much as I loved my nephew, my son. She knew it would hurt me. She knew it did. She set up rules that I had to obey in order to see him. 

Gabriel explained to me, when I took him out the first Sunday, he was depressed. He said he attempted suicide. He said he had a counselor at school. I just wanted to hold him. He talked. I mean he talked and talked and talked and talked and it didn't take me long to realized he talked because I listened. At the end of every Sunday he said he didn't want to leave. I explained as long as we want to hang out, we have to follow Michelle's rules in order to do so. That meant 7pm sharp curfew. He said he was just going home to be alone. I told him to never say anything bad about his mother to me. Not because it was disrespectful, but because it broke my heart.

When she said I could no longer see him, it hurt more than you could imagine. It was a familiar sting.  He is and will always be my Gaby. I wish the best for him and success. I don't need for him to call or email me in two weeks. What I want is for him to be happy with himself and his life. I relish the fact that I have known this amazing boy [turning into a man] since he was 8 months old. Nothing on earth will make me not love him. Not even his mother. I am lucky to say I know him. I love him more each day.