Archive | 1:45 pm

You’re not getting any younger

13 Nov

Years ago my mom would take the time out, at least once a week, to remind me that perhaps I should lower my standards so that I could find a man.

  • Mom: You’re not going to be young forever, you know?
  • Me: Yeah.  I know.
  • Mom: Maybe it’s time to consider that you date someone that you wouldn’t have dated before?
  • Me: Nope.  I’m good.
  • Mom: But I don’t want you to end up alone!
  • Me: So you’d rather I end up with someone who doesn’t make me happy so that I’m not alone?
  • Mom: Then you could have a child.
  • Me: That’s why you want me to find a man?  So I can have a baby?
  • Mom: You’re not getting any younger.

Call me crazy, but I think standards are kind of important to have.  I’m not talking being in that Bridget Fonda space in “Singles” (how about that for a throwback?).  She wanted a crazy long list of nonsense, and then was willing to settle for someone who would say “bless you” when she sneezed.  I deserve better than that.  We all deserve more than that.  Shouldn’t we have someone who is gainfully employed, loving, caring, ambitious, smart, kind, warm, etc?  I want someone who brings out the best in me.  Who challenges me.  Who makes me want to be a better person.  Not some douche bag who has a pulse, never makes the bed, and leaves crumbs in his wake.  Fuck that for a joke.  I still believe I can find him.  He’s out there.

I was pleased to see her let go of that line of questioning.

Until it turned into something worse:

  • Mom: You know, if you’re going to have a child, now’s the time to do it.
  • Me: Um.  What?
  • Mom: You’re not getting any younger.
  • Me: I’m well aware of that.
  • Mom: You should just have a baby.
  • Me: Nah, I’m good.
  • Mom: But I don’t want you to end up alone!

We played that game for a few years.  She went as fair as to hand me pamphlets on fertility treatments and freezing my eggs.  At 43, that ship has pretty much sailed.  Not sure whether or not my uterus could handle growing and cultivating another human being for 9 months.  That whole part of my body has been a dry wasteland for as long as I remember.  More than likely if anything could survive up in there it’s some kind of prehistoric creature that should never see the light of day.

  • You can imagine my “delight” when 3 weeks before my 44th birthday we started a new conversation:
  • Mom: You know, you could always adopt.
  • Me: Mom!  Come on!
  • Mom: You’d make an excellent mother.
  • Me: Seriously?
  • Mom: You’re not getting any younger.
  • Me: For the love.
  • Mom: Or you could be a foster mom?

Guessing this year I can expect pamphlets on fostering or adoption.  Yay!

I love our little chats.

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