I met a lady today who had a baby when she was almost 40. She also has a 15-year-old. She was almost done and ended up “accidentally” starting over. She was very candid about the fact that she did not want a baby. She cried for months when she found out she was pregnant. And then for even more months after the baby was born. The baby is six now. She’s gotten used to the idea that she has another kid by this point. But I was telling her how I recently met someone who wanted to have a baby at our age and even though for a brief temporarily insane moment, I pondered it, but deep down I know that I’m not cut out to bear or raise any more kids. My time for 24/7/365 parenting is over. I love the freedoms I have. I am currently sitting in a sports bar drinking a beer, working, and writing this blog. That is freedom. And this lady just solidified my thoughts that I don’t need another kid (ever) and I was batshit crazy to even think about it. Raising kids is hard. I don’t even know how I got out of it alive. And sane (which is debatable).
And I can’t help but think of Off the Record, who has currently been renamed The One Who Got Away. I guess I’m not so bummed that he broke up with me (if you can break up with someone who you aren’t actually dating yet). Maybe he was right. Maybe we are at two different places in our lives and no matter how much I liked him or he liked me, the picture I had in my head of what our relationship could be like was way different than the idea he had in his head about what he wanted it to look like. And I’m not mad about it. I don’t think I ever really was. I was more bummed out because he was just so perfect for me (minus that pesky kid situation). And I was hopeful that he would snap out of it and realize that we are both way too old to be thinking about kids and should just be spending our time loving on each other. Plus, I’ll be thinking about grandkids before too long and that’s plenty. Maybe I should have mentioned that to him. But I didn’t.
And now I hear from him sporadically but it’s not the same. We are still laughing and talking like we were. But it’s more casual and short now. It’s like I’m just on the backburner while he figures out if he can find someone to give him what he wants. And if he can’t then he may feel like he’s still got me. Obviously, I could be wrong and he could not be thinking that at all. I have no idea. So I am happy to talk to him when he calls, but I haven’t reached out to call him because I don’t want to force myself on him when he could be finding what he really wants.
I swear. Life is so much easier when relationships aren’t involved. But I guess that’s a pretty impossible feat unless you lock yourself in your house with your 27 cats and block out the world. I wish I liked cats.
Just kidding. But seriously, this whole “finding someone to spend time with” thing is hard. And finding someone to spend the rest of your life with is starting to seem like a damn near impossible task. And I’m too tired to perform many more of those.
RouletteWeekend 