Starfish Envy

Time For A Change

Okay.  I don't mean to be a bitch (which pretty much means I'm about to be a bitch), but I'm in a bit of a WTF situation at the moment, and let's face it, I'm feeling a little bitchy.

So here's the deal.

Remember Tall, Normal Guy?

Yeah.  Well, I'm starting to think he's not so normal.

Here's a timeline:  In early November, he follows me down the street and asks for my number.  I give it to him. THREE WEEKS LATER, he calls.  I miss the call, but text back.  We trade texts, I ask him to lunch that coming Sunday.  HE DOESN'T RESPOND.  I write him off.  THREE WEEKS LATER, he texts that he's still looking forward to seeing me.  I ignore him.

Because, seriously, I have better things to do than go on a date with a guy who can't be bothered to respond to a lunch invitation.

So I figure that's that.  

Until he texts me Christmas Eve.  And again a few days later.  Now, I'm IN SPAIN at this point, so these texts are eating into my valuable international plan text allowance.  I don't respond.  Because what am I going to say?  Remember when you got my number, then didn't call, then did, but then didn't respond when I asked you to lunch?  No?  WELL, I DO, PAL.

And yes, I did just write PAL.  And I'll do it again.  

PAL.

There's something so charmingly aggressive about the word PAL.  It's derisive and hostile... yet still cute.

But I digress.  

So then he texts on Valentine's Day.  At 1 a.m.  As in, ONE HOUR INTO THE DAY.  

Am I supposed to be touched by this?  Because I'm not.  I'm creeped out.  As in, Big Yucky Grossness.   All I can think is, what, did he stay up late and at the stroke of midnight start texting all the girls he's followed down the street in the last year?  How long does this go on?  I haven't responded to a text or a phone call (Did I mention he's also called a couple times?  Most recently tonight.  Thus the rant.) since early December.  As in, more than two months ago.

I mean, I know I'm awesome, but COME ON.  We met for five seconds.  It was a great five seconds.  

Now it's over.

Kaput.

Anyway.  Tonight I am officially changing Tall, Normal Guy's moniker to Tall, Creepy Guy.

Sad.  But at this point, I'd say he's earned it.

What Time Is It? Stress Management Time!

Tonight I started a class on how to manage stress through infertility treatments.

Of course, I'm not technically infertile.  

Especially now that the polyps (POLYPS POLYPS POLYPS!) have been removed.  But I am classified AMA (advanced maternal age-- bite me), and I do have a lot of stress in my life.  And there will be more once I start taking all the meds in preparation for IVF.

For confidentiality reasons, I won't be talking much about the class here (other people's confidentiality, obviously, not my own-- I don't give two hoots about that).  

But I do want to talk about the one thing that was stressing me out about my stress-management class, which is that I assumed I would be the only single woman there.

And I was right.

I also assumed that being the only single woman there would make me feel bad.

About that, I was totally wrong.

It was fine.  All the other women were very cool and supportive, and the instructors made an effort to refer to all the situations represented in the class.  There's a session later in the course when husbands and partners are invited, and they said I'm welcome to bring a friend.

Though I probably won't.

Or maybe I will.

I'll wait and see which option stresses me out less, and pick that one.

See?  I'm managing my stress better already!

.

What stresses you out?  How do handle it?

 

A Crazy Thing Happened On The Way To The Doggy Daycare

So, I've been working late the last couple nights, which means that when I go to pick up Moose from doggy daycare, the spaces in front are taken by patrons of the restaurant next door.  

Tonight, I parked a block down and walked back.  

When I went into the store, I heard someone behind me saying "Excuse me," but I didn't really think anything of it.  I mean, people say "excuse me" in stores all the time. Usually not to me.  

But then he said it again, and it seemed to be coming from behind me, so I turned around.

And here's what the guy said.

"I'm sorry, but you are gorgeous.  I saw you walk by, and I just had to come and talk to you."

Seriously.

This is A REAL THING THAT HAPPENED.

To me.

Just now.

And he seemed normal.  And tall.  

And normal.

I mean, aside from the following me down the street.

And the poor vision.

So... I gave him my number.

I mean, why the hell not?  (Okay, one why the hell not would be that I've been trying to get pregnant for eight months.  And there are probably a million others, but I didn't have time to think of them.)

And now I cannot stop laughing.  Because, really.

What?

WHAT?

The Sun'll Come Out

I am crushed by loneliness these days.  

I'll get over it.  But in the meantime, I feel hollow.  

I'm usually fine with being single. Occasionally more than fine, but usually a good, solid, hard-earned fine.  

Now and then, though... it's difficult to even explain.  The depth, width, and breadth of the aloneness is... frankly, excruciating.  

Tonight, outside my kitchen window, I watched a mama cat frolicking in my neighbor's yard with her four kittens. When mama cat and three of her kittens disappeared under a hole in the fence, one kitten was left behind.  He prowled up and down the fence while mama cat howled from the other side.  

Finally, mama cat climbed the fence, meowing at her wayward kitten from the top.  He tried to climb to her, but he's a tiny kitten-- no way he could climb that high.  

Finally, mama gave up and jumped down on the other side of the fence, with the rest of her brood.  I watched as wayward kitten ran along the fence, following, but separate.  

I gave them a few minutes, then went over to my neighbor's yard to make sure the kitten wasn't still lost over there.  

He was gone.  He'd found his family.   He'll be fine.  

I'll be fine, too.  

Tomorrow. 

In Which I Perhaps Say More Than I Should

Stephanie has thrown down the gauntlet.  

She probably didn't mean to.  She probably thought she was just leaving a comment like any other.  But oh, gauntlet-- unwittingly or not --thrown have you been!  

Here's what Stephanie did.  In the comments on yesterday's post she wrote this:

"What I’m interested to hear about—because, lately, it’s something I’m noticing and exploring in myself and certainly why I’m dwelling on these posts of yours—is how your thinking about relationships, partnership, marriage, attraction, etc. has changed over time, as you have changed, and in different phases of your life."

Oh, my.

The answer to THAT is a six volume saga that starts when I was knee-high to a Midwestern grasshopper.  It's convoluted, and complicated, and not a little sad. And since I've promised my mother not to write about her until she's dead-- at which point, boy, will I have some writing to do-- most of those early years, which so formed my feelings about relationships/partnerships/marriage/attraction, are out of bounds.

Suffice it to say: Despite everything, I always believed I would meet the perfect man (for me), fall in love, get married, and have babies.  That's how it works, right? That's what everybody does, right?  

It took a long time for it to occur to me that I would be the exception to that rule. Through many, many long years of either being single or dating guys who were glaringly not right for me, I continued to believe that The Right Guy would show up.  

Then, when he didn't, I started to believe that I was both unlovable and, frankly, defective.  Or maybe I'd always believed that, and those beliefs were just, finally, confirmed.

I spent a lot of years in that space.  They were not pleasant years.  

Part of it was the emotional drain of just feeling shitty about myself all the time.  And part of it was a general sense of hopelessness-- not about being single, really, but about all the things I was missing out on, all the things I felt I couldn't do because I was alone. Things like traveling.  Buying a house.  Getting married.  Having kids.  

Okay, and also about being single.

And then, at some point, I decided to embrace the life I have rather than mourn the life I don't have.  It wasn't easy, and it took a lot of time.  I bought a house.  I took trips by myself.  I decided to have a baby on my own.

I also-- and this is recent-- stopped buying into the bullshit notion that married= sane, whole, happy.

For a long time, I really felt like I was so screwed up I could never possibly be in a relationship.  And then one day I took a good look at my friends who are married, and the truth is, they're just as screwed up as I am.  Everybody's screwed up in one way or another.  Most of us are screwed up in fifty ways or another.  

Being married just means that, screwed up as you are, you were still lucky enough to find some other screwed up person to be married to.  Somehow those ways of being screwed up work together.  Or they don't, and people get divorced.  

In other words, I stopped idealizing marriage and idealizing married people.  (Now if only they would do the same.)

Not that there aren't great things about being married.  But there are also great things about being single.  And there are really crappy things about being married, just as there are really crappy things about being single.

I'm just not keeping score anymore.   Most of the time, anyway.

.

Stephanie, I hope that sort of begins to answer your question.   Everybody else, weigh in!  How have your feelings about relationships, etc., changed over time?

What Do I Do Now?

I've been trying to figure out how to approach blogging as I move into this Trying To Conceive stage.  

The options seem to be these:

1) Full blackout on all things conception-related.  This avoids many potential hazards-- such as having to say I'm pregnant much sooner than I usually would; or writing about having a miscarriage (I'm not being negative, just realistic-- it's very common, especially at my age.).

2) Full disclosure.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  I'm pretty open and honest here, anyway.  But there are some potentially very turbulent waters ahead now that I'm moving from theory to reality.  If I commit to the good, the bad, and the ugly... we could all be in for some REALLY ugly.

3) Play it by ear.  I'm leaning toward this one.  I don't know how I'll feel two weeks from now when I'm coming to the end of my first Two Week Wait (assuming, that is, that things go smoothly tomorrow, when I'm scheduled for my first IUI). 

It's all very complicated.  The whole reason I started this blog, after all, was to write about this journey from being plain ol' me to being a happy, healthy, single mom by choice.  

And already I've gotten more out of it than I ever could have hoped-- this blog and the people who read it have been extraordinarily helpful-- more than helpful, really-- throughout the Thinking Stage.  

I'm sure the same will be true throughout the Trying Stage.

I'd love to know what you think.  Is there an approach I haven't thought of?  Am I making this more complicated than it is? 

.

Also, a reader (and fellow writer) named Jen made a GREAT comment that helped me clarify some of my thoughts on the whole picking-a-sperm-donor subject, so that post will be coming this week...

Lucky After All

So... mea culpa.  I'm an ass.

On Monday I got all whiny about how, despite my professional luck, I have no luck in my personal life. In my defense, I believed it at the time.  And it's true that I have zero luck in the romantic arena. Zilch. So in that respect, my Rule-Two-breaking self-pity was justified.

But this morning I was driving in to work thinking about an email exchange I'd just had with my accountant. It went something like this:

Acct: "Hey, There's a credit card charge for $3895 to CCB on 1/5. Do you remember what that was for?"

Me: "That was for sperm. Bet you don't get THAT answer often, do ya?"

Acct: "Oh gosh you made me laugh out out! Can't say I've ever had that answer, no... but it's certainly one to remember!"

And what I realized is this: In the six or so months since I decided to try to get pregnant using donor sperm, every single person I know has been supportive. And not just supportive. Enthusiastic. Excited. Encouraging. And every other positive word that begins with E.

My family is totally on board. My friends are thrilled. My colleagues are interested and excited. My doctor thinks it's great. My accountant went out of her way to read my blog and send me a lovely, supportive email. My acupuncturist gave me hug when I told her I was planning to start trying soon.  

And it has to be said: You guys out in the blogosphere are an endless source of inspiration and support. You're also, very often, the source of much needed reality checks when I'm freaking out.

It's astonishing, really. Every single person I know has helped me overcome my doubts and feel happy about this decision.

No negativity. No doubts. No discouragement.

No exceptions.

Just love and support.

And if that's not lucky, I don't know what is.

Lights On, But Nobody's Home

I'm a little annoyed with Lori Gottlieb's new book, "Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough."  

Why?

Because I had every intention of hating it, and then writing about how much I hated it.   I mean, that seems to be the thing to do these days.  All the cool kids are hating it. 

So I bought it, and read it... and, dash it all, I rather enjoyed it.    

In fact, I found it to be an honest, practical look at dating in the twenty-first century. While its do-as-I-say-not-as-I've-done message is aimed at younger women, as a thirty-eight-year-old single woman myself, I must admit I found it rather vindicating.  

About a year ago, when I finally gave up on meeting someone the normal way (i.e., at work, through friends, at the grocery store/bank/gas station/wherever) and started internet dating, WP insisted that it was possible to meet someone great online.  As proof, she offered up that she had, in fact, just met a terrific couple who found each other online.  The woman was 34!  And the husband was a doctor!  

Yeah.  That's nice.  

Except, as I explained to WP, there's a BIG difference in the online dating world between 34 and 37.  (I was 37 then.  Ah, those were the days.) 

I'd be willing to bet my opposable thumbs that the pool of men available to  WP's 34-year-old and the pool of men available to me were completely different pools.  If, in fact, our pools were shoved together to form a Venn diagram, I'm pretty confident there would be absolutely no touching.  None.  Just two circles, hanging out.  

WP didn't believe me.  (She nodded like she believed me, but she really didn't.  I could tell.)

Well.  She should read Lori Gottlieb's book.  That'll show her.

This is not to say that there aren't flaws with the book and with Gottlieb's reasoning. Essentially, her argument is that women shouldn't hold out for The One, because The One is a fantasy; that we shouldn't have long, inflexible lists of qualities we're looking for in a perfect partner; and that we should be realistic (especially as we get older) about the kind of partner we're going to attract.  

Fair enough.  

But nowhere does Gottlieb address some of the basic requirements for finding and being successful in a relationship.  Things like readiness, and rightness, and timing.   And luck. 

To be in a successful relationship, you have to be ready for one.  Do people sometimes (often?) get married before they're really ready?  Oh, yes, they do.  And I suppose it's possible that in some cases people really do "grow together," as you so often hear, but I've never seen it myself.  More often, when people get married before they're really ready, they end up getting divorced.  

Would I rather be single at thirty-eight than divorcing at thirty-eight?  It's hard to say, but I think so.

I'd also rather be single than married to someone who's not Right For Me.  Right For Me is, of course, hard to define, but it has nothing to do with being finicky about the things that Gottlieb seems to think women are concerned about, like height, full heads of hair, and the ability to banter.  (Okay, I have to say it.  What IS it about banter?  Everyone wants to have great banter.  You know what I want?  Great conversation.  Seriously, people.) Rightness is a feeling, and when that feeling happens, all the lists go out the window.  Or so I hear. 

Readiness and rightness are related to another factor that Gottlieb barely addresses: timing.  Which is why the Sex and the City "light on" thing struck such a chord with me and my friends.  For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, in one episode of SATC, the women discussed how men are like taxis.  A man could be dating the most amazing woman in the world, but if his light's not on, he's not marrying her. And then, as soon as his light goes on, he pretty much marries the next woman who gets in the cab.  In short: timing.

While I don't think it's quite that simple, I do think that more often than not the man is The Decider when it comes to marriage.  It's true among my friends, and it's true anecdotally throughout Gottilieb's book.  When a man decides he's met the woman he wants to marry, he sticks to her like glue until she decides she wants to marry him too.

And let's be honest: there's more than a little luck involved.  

Me, I have a lot of lucky professionally.  But personally?  

Yeah.  Well.  You can't have everything.

.

How are you lucky?

Happy Valentine's Day. Grrrrrrrrrr.

Here's what I have to say about Valentine's Day:  What.  Ever.

Which is a huge improvement on how I used to feel about what is certainly The Most Exclusionary Holiday Of All Time.  

...and then she paused to think.

Wait!  Maybe it's not THE most exclusionary holiday.  If you think about it, most holidays exclude someone.  

Religious holidays exclude those of other religions.  National holidays exclude those of other nations.  Couple holidays exclude those of us who aren't coupled.  (Just like couple dinners and couple vacations.  Come to think of it, it's all just more of the same.)  

I'm less bothered by all the rest of the coupley stuff these days, so I suppose it makes sense that I'm less bothered by Valentine's Day.  

Or maybe I'm just dead inside.  

It's hard to say.  

At the moment, I'm muddling through my sixth illness of the season (five colds, one flu), and a weekend in bed isn't the best thing for the old emotional well-bring.  

Not that I don't LOVE it when I'm (barely) standing in my kitchen, wishing I had mac and cheese because it's the only thing that will make me feel better about the fact that I can't actually really BREATHE, but my legs are too buckly and my mind is too cloudy for me to, oh, DRIVE SAFELY to the Vonn's four blocks away, and putting a humidifier together feels literally like rocket science and every move I make results in something falling and breaking, and that's a bitch when you have two dogs who don't understand English words like "FREEZE!  DANGEROUS GLASS SHARDS UNDERFOOT!"  

Sigh.  

It wasn't that bad, really.  Although I did, in my sick-induced clumsiness, break things. 

Yeah, okay, it was that bad.  

But no paws were injured in the making of this blog post.  My dogs are, when it suits them, very well trained in the sit-and-stay department, and they waited politely while I swept.  And bitched incoherently.  

And I wonder why I'm still single. 

Don't Stop Believin'

.

"Honestly?  I can't handle any more stress in my life.  So I'm just going to do this on my own."

                                                         --Quinn Fabray

.

I love "Glee."  I love the songs.  I love the crazy, silly plots.  I love the archetypal characters.  I love that despite the crazy, silly plots and the archetypal characters, "Glee" very often makes me cry.  

I also love that, every now and then, "Glee" offers real nuggets o' wisdom like the one above.  

As someone planning to become a single mom, I think a lot about support systems.  It's something that many women in my position obsess about endlessly as they try to decide if having a baby on their own is something they can handle.  

And once single women have a child, the quest for a solid support system seems to become something of a mission, if not an imperative.

What can get lost in the "building a support system" discussion is that sometimes, it really is easier, and less stressful, to just handle something on your own. 

Personally, I don't like asking for help, and other people... well, I don't tend to trust them much.  So I tend to lean heavily toward "do this on my own."  

But, occasionally, asking for and receiving help can be transformative.  Right now, for example, my dad and step-mom are taking care of my dog, Daisy.  If they hadn't been willing to take her in after she and Chloe got in their enormous debacle of a fight, I honestly don't know what I would have done.  And the difference in my overall stress level, now that I'm not in the middle of warring dog-factions, is massive.

Is that problem solved?  Not by a long shot.  But, for now, all is well.  And a solution will, hopefully sooner rather than later, present itself.  And when the solution appears, I'll handle it.  Maybe with help, maybe not.  

Which is, perhaps, the key.  Some things can be handled by you and you alone, and some things can't.  It's a matter of weighing the options-- will you be less stressed if you do something yourself, or will you be less stressed if you bring in extra hands?     

If I ever figure out the proper balance between those two options, I'll let you know.  And then I'll write a book and make a billion dollars.  

In the meantime, I'll be muddling through.  And watching "Glee."

.

I also love "Modern Family."  If you're not watching it, you must start.  Every episode makes me laugh out loud and cry.  And, as Dolly Parton says, there's nothing better than laughter through tears.  

.

Couldn't get WP on video today, but I'll try again tomorrow...