Day 320: I'm off Birth Control: What if it's Blond?!?

I have written before about my conflicting feelings over having children. It’s also no secret that the husband is likely sterile, according to two different physicians. (A gift from the Army’s Airborne program.) Liking kids is not the problem, wanting to devote time and money away from our own lives is the stumbling block. So we’re pretty resolute in not wanting kids, especially given the fact that we’d likely have to adopt or jump through some pretty daunting hoops to get knocked up. Still, in contemplating whether or not to go off the pill, I had a mini meltdown.

I have been on some form of birth control with the exception of a handful of months here or there since I was 15. (Don’t judge me, I was ahead of my time.) This last month, however, I have been sans birth control because at the time I was due to refill and start, I was suffering a two-day hangover (my drunken, stripper filled night with the husband and our friend Mark) from a particularly wild night out and missed my window for starting that month’s pills. Super responsible I realize, but whatever, I’m 37, I deserve some wild nights.

This morning I mentioned to the husband that maybe I do not need to go back on it since he’s probably shooting blanks and I’m at an age that does not offer the freshest of eggs. It seems a pretty safe bet that we will not face an unexpected pregnancy without contraception. The decision was made that I might as well skip the pill and its excess of hormones, especially now that I’m trying to be healthy and more natural in my approach to life. Decision made, I jumped into the shower and immediately flashed forward to what might happen.

I could not help but think about the ramifications of a pregnancy at this point. We live three hours apart, paying rent on two leases that we are locked into for at least the next 14 months. I plan to go to grad school in the fall. We don’t have the money or time for a baby. I was standing in the shower running through all the possible scenarios and getting increasingly freaked out. Ten minutes after we decided it was safe to go off the pill, I came running out of the shower shrieking about our dual leases, school, work and the worst for me: what if it comes out BLOND?!? (Recessive genes could make it possible. Jeff’s sister looks practically Nordic.) Jeff took one look at me in my towel, wet hair dripping, panicked look on my face and said: I think birth control is probably best. Close call for me, I’m clearly not ready for the risk, no matter how slim.

Day 319: I'm Talking About the Junk, Divorce is Imminent

I need to include a disclaimer here stating that this is in no way reflective of the husband aside from the fact that we had a funny conversation about this topic, he’s got a good one and he’ll likely kill me before I have the chance to write Day 319. Cheers.

Men are touchy. They have fragile little egos and they are especially sensitive about any comments regarding the manly business. It’s an odd thing to me, because when you normally talk about self-esteem issues regarding the body, you think of a woman. It’s no secret that we are all obsessed with our own body image, but guys are supposed to be cool about that. If it’s any indication, the fact that guys with absolutely no chance still repeatedly hit on women way out of their league pretty much proves their lack of accurate self-image and boundless confidence. Guys will criticize a woman’s weight despite their own huge gut. For some reason, we’ve become inured to this scenario and accept it as just par for the course. Men do have that one area of sensitivity however and I have learned it’s a biggie . . . well for some it’s bigger than others.

Ask any girl and she will tell you that the flaccid penis is kind of cute. It’s soft, pliable and somehow shrinks down to an amazingly smaller pocket pet. Mention the words cute, soft or small to a guy in reference to the junk and all hell breaks loose. Here’s why I think this happens, men are sensitive in general about the size of the goods (which serves them right since we’re sensitive about the size of our everything) when it’s erect and they don’t realize that all guys have excessive shrinkage when not at attention. In my 22 years of experience I’ve seen a wide variety of packages and while the differences vary greatly the moment before, the moment after produces remarkably similar results. That shit shrinks like it’s trying to get away from something.

You’d think men would realize this given that they shower together more frequently in locker rooms and use urinals right beside one another (a concept that still weirds me out), but they genuinely seem to think guys are the same size all the time. Any shrinkage at all they take as a dent to their manhood and I find it routinely comical to talk lovingly of the cute, soft little guy to see how fast I can anger the husband. He should know he’s packing the goods, right? I mean, women all know what size breasts, waists, hips and even shoes are desirable according to societal standards, do men really not know what is above average or even normal for the only thing they have to keep track of?

It is my opinion that when you only have one appendage to obsess over size-wise you should at least educate yourself on what the preferred sizes are and you fall. If your Mr. Happy is above average and your past girlfriends or wife tell you that on multiple occasions at some point you should believe it’s true, especially when you’ve been together for a while, because after those first couple of years, our desire to stroke your ego diminishes greatly, pretty much like the size of your Waldo after climax. Deal with it. That shit is soft and cute and stretchy and if you’re going to expect me to spend tons of quality time with it, then I’m going to get to know it in both states. And if the size matters all that much to you, then I suggest you stroke your own “ego” more and watch it grow.

Day 317: Vote for Me! Vote for Me! (Because Otherwise I Might Not Get Invited)

Have you ever been upset because you weren’t invited to something you had no desire to attend? I think this may be human nature. I know women have the same reaction to men. We want the guy to dig us so we know we’re hot, but he has no chance of scoring. It’s ridiculous and the irony is not lost on me, but that’s not the point. This is what happens when our self-esteem is tied to what others think of us. Luckily for me, I care less and less the older I get, but hell, I’m still human and a chick to boot so I’m not completely immune.

Lately, I have been seriously obsessed with the idea of planning my 20 year high school reunion. Rumor has it that the senior class officers are supposed to do it, but that sounds lame to me (I mean seriously, if you were the class president your senior year, how much fun could your reunion possibly be?). But here’s what pisses me off, we apparently had a 10-year, but no one made a fucking effort to let me know. True I lived in NYC, which is sort of a different country compared to Fort Wayne, IN, but it’s not ACTUALLY a foreign nation. My brother still lives at the same address where we grew up and the phone number is the same even, how hard could it have been to find me?

Still, what’s stupid about this, is that I would have laughed in scorn if anyone actually thought I would have gone. Ten years was not enough time for me to expend all my bitterness at high school. I hated my junior and senior years. People were relentlessly mean, I never had a date, I barely had any friends and I had no one to advocate for me. Where was the guidance counselor that cares about your future or the teacher that takes a special interest? My high school memories are not all that happy, but something happened between the 10 and 20 year anniversaries, I stopped caring about the bad and just want to celebrate the inanity of it all.

Yes, my feelings are a little hurt that I didn’t make the cut for the reunion, but not really. I heard it sucked anyway (seriously, the Marriott three minutes from the school? Lame.). I mean, I’m not bitter, but a reunion planned by me would be so much better. So vote for Ame, because she’ll totally rock this shit! 

Day 316: My Inner Bitch is Usually Right

Sometimes my mouth, temper, and sarcasm get the best of me and spout off before I take the time to properly consider the consequences. Other times I consider and consider, then finally allow myself the indulgence of going into “bitch” mode only to feel guilty about it later. Funny thing is, my first instinct is usually the correct one.

Despite the fact that my actions in both cases end up being identical in the end, I usually do not feel guilty about the vocal volcano when it happens without first thinking it through. It’s not that I forgive my self for it because it just slipped out, but because I’m usually justified when I go with my gut. I’m not saying this has always been the case, I could be a mean little bitch when I was in my 20’s and younger, but since hitting 30 I feel I am nicer overall and when that bitch-ometer kicks into gear it most likely means someone is being an asshole (other than me).

The opposite isn’t necessarily the case when I take time to think about it, but it does often prove to be that too much thought muddies the waters for me. I rely on instinct to guide me through life much more than I do contemplation. Don’t get me wrong, I contemplate everything until the minutia of it is exasperating, I just do so after the fact (see Day 313). No, my thing is that if something gets me irate enough to give a verbal smackdown, nine times out of ten it will turn out to be legitimately warranted, but if I wait and agonize over if a stronger reaction is required it confuses me and makes me doubt myself.

A recent example is the commisioner of last year’s fantasy football league. To protect his identity we’ll call him Stev and make him a part of owner of a bar (NOT located across the street from me) called Pikaso’s. The league ended in December 2009 with me winning first place and 980 . . . um, points because gambling is illegal and I would never break the law –- except for speeding which is totally legit b/c I am an excellent driver when I go 90 and above. Anyway, I contacted Stev two or three times personally about the “points” he owes me and was told that a couple of guys still owe him from the buy-in (four months ago). I also stopped into Pikaso’s twice to ask his business partner who was also in the league and got the same answer, although the second time he also let it slip the two were headed to Vegas the next day. Finally, this last weekend I sent an slightly hostile email demanding my money and accusing him of spending it and not honoring his commitment. Then I felt super, super guilty.

The guy emailed back the next day saying he had it and has for a long time and he’ll meet me anytime to drop it off, etc. So now I feel like a bitch. I really like this guy, he’s great and is raising two kids on his own after his wife unexpectedly died a year ago. I don’t want to be on bad terms with him, why couldn’t I just be more patient and waited for him to contact me, surely he was just about to. Except here’s the thing, I said I could meet any time, for him to name the day and time and I’d be there and I was sorry for getting so bitchy and you know what I heard back? NOTHING! The douchebag never responded and I still don’t have my damn 980 “points”!

The moral to the story is that if I had just been a bitch four months ago when he blew me off it would have been clean and tidy and while the friendship might be over I also would feel more and more justified in being an asshole because he’s never coughed up what he owes me. Now, however, I’ve wasted four months worrying over hurting his feelings or the friendship, then I finally take a hard stance, immediately feel regret after his note, and then none of it matters anyway. I felt guilty and awkward about hurting our friendship for months when this jerkstore doesn’t feel the need to fulfill his commitments. Why do I feel bad for being a bitch when he’s the one being a dick? Instinctual bitchiness is never this messy. Trying to be nice and taking the time to think before I speak (or email) has not accomplished a damn thing except that now I feel guilty about my bitchiness, which was clearly justified in the first place! Being nice sucks.

Day 315: I Lost Ten Years and Just Found Them Tonight

I had a hard time today. The day started out well enough and I managed to accomplish everything on my list and stay in good spirits for the most part, but there was a sadness I couldn’t shake. An indulgent moment of nostalgia suddenly led to heartbreak over my Mother. It’s so funny how it happens, I’m thinking about a restaurant we went to when I was a kid and wandering what I used to order. I’ll ask Mom, I think, and then realize I can’t. In fact, I can’t ever ask her anything ever again. This sadness has hung over me all day and while it’s not the active feeling of loss that one experiences in the immediate aftermath of a loss, it hovers so no matter how great your day is otherwise, it never lets you completely move past it. Oddly enough, today is also my Mother-in-law’s birthday which I forgot about, despite being fully aware just two days ago.

I’m beginning to see a pattern in this strange forgetfulness. I have always remembered dates and numbers that were meaningful. I still remember the phone numbers of my two childhood best friends. There wasn’t a date I didn’t remember and I sent cards for everyone’s birthdays. These days I don’t remember my own wedding anniversary. To recall the husband’s birthday I have to think “July 4th, add a month.” Just ask any friend or Jeff’s family when I’ve ever remembered their birthdays and you’re likely to get a blank stare. Don’t even ask about Mother’s or even Father’s Day, they don’t exist for me.

Tonight, after the husband mentioned he’d called his Mom for her birthday and I realize that despite discussing her gift in depth two days ago I had no inkling today is her birthday I started to put some things together. Life stopped for me when she died. I changed where I lived, what I did, who my friends were, and who I was. I don’t like the person I became in many ways and in others I am grateful because it put me on the path to who I am today. Despite a gained maturity, it seems I lost more than just my Mom, I lost an ability to truly care about those in my life. It enabled me to hurt a friend, forget important dates, and pursue some pretty destructive tangents. I was hurt and distraught and therefore I could do whatever I wanted.

Before tonight I thought I had outgrown, or at least outlived, the selfish and destructive tendencies that her death brought set off in me. I did not realize that I still clung to that loss as an excuse to not be active in my life. It is not okay that I ignore things that are important in the lives of others because I experienced something awful. Tonight I realize that in a way my life has still been on hold. I am still waiting for Mom to remind me that it’s Grams’ birthday or to send a gift for so and so’s birth announcement. She died and I’m still waiting to be “Mom’d.” It’s going to be Mother’s Day soon and as much as I want to forget that day, I will call my Mother-in-law, I will wish all my friends who are Moms well and I will make an effort to not feel sorry for myself.

Life didn’t stop for everyone and it can’t stop for me either. I will always feel sad, there will always be days like today, but I think I’ve experienced an epiphany. Those dates I cannot seem to commit to memory are victims of a future I don’t want to be living. As long as I stay away from my hometown I let myself pretend the truth isn’t real. I’m just away from home, everything is okay. But it’s not and I guess I’m not either. My inability to commit dates and events to memory is evidence that a part of me stopped when she died. Your birthdays matter, I did get married, friends have had children and Mother’s Day exists for the rest of the world. I didn’t know I was still hiding, but I hope that now that reality has found me, I’ll be able to find myself.

Day 314: Sadly Happy, the Bittersweet Moments are the True Gems

I am a fan of old movies. If it’s black and white, stars either of the Hepburns, Bette Davis, or involves those great old musical production numbers I’ll watch it. Today I tuned in for Alice Adams, a 1935 movie with Katherine Hepburn. There’s a line in the movie in which Hepburns’ character says she is sadly happy. When queried she explains that only young children are happily happy. How true. Innocence allows the young to feel the purest of emotions while the rest of us feel shades of those feelings.

It is not possible to be completely happy or sad or anything else really, once you become an adult. So much happens to us throughout our lives that inevitably emotions are tinged with the experiences of our years. Even the best of the best, like love, is tinged with the bite of lost love, rejection or worse. We carry our experiences with us and they color what we do and how we feel. This is not a conscious process, but one we cannot help or escape. When I am happy, truly happy, there is always a moment that I feel the loss of other days that did not end so well. The days that ended in a fight or a break-up linger in the back of the mind and edges of the heart.

Even sadness or depression (not clinical depression) can’t be the only thing you feel. We see too much joy in the world and have happy memories to curb the negative. When a child is upset her feelings are only related to that moment. The fact that she cannot have a cookie is the only thing in her world at that moment and she is thoroughly upset or angry. Grown-ups know there will be other cookies and so even though life gives us lemons, there’s always the promise of future lemonade. Too many clichés, but you get my point.

Life is bittersweet and that “sadly happy” feeling is really the best there is. Without the bitter, we would not know the sweet. I knew my husband was the man I needed and wanted because of all the lost loves of the past. Experience teaches us to recognize what is good and positive in life and without them we might have those pure emotions, but there would be no context. If not having a cookie is as disappointing as losing a loved one, we’d be the worse off for it.

Day 313: I Carefully Think Through Every Decision . . . After I've Rushed Into Them

The fact that I tend to make rash decisions is well known among those that love me. I am predictable only in the fact that I am unpredictable. I like to go with my gut and that means that sometimes things come up and I leap before I look. In true Ame style, my contradictory nature almost always gets the better of me and I immediately begin to doubt my decision. This is not to say that I actually regret anything, I just need to talk it out and cover all the angles. Unfortunately this usually happens when it is too late and that kinda drives people (a.k.a. the husband) crazy.

We all undoubtedly have our own particular decision-making process. Personally, I like to prepare for the worst and that way I’m never disappointed. So while I am pretty good at the snap decision on important things, I then take time to think about all the potential negatives and I will drag out a discussion point by point elaborating every conceivable disaster scenario.

Unlike many of my rants, which are really more of a monologue and not in need of a true back and forth, when I am rethinking a quick decision I appreciate feedback. The voices in my head just don’t cut it when I need to work through another hasty choice. Clearly this is confusing for those around me. I talk out loud to myself and then I talk out loud to my husband. One would think that discerning when my comments are directed at the husband as opposed to myself would be evident, but clearly that is not the case. Even after six years the husband still cannot always discern when I am looking for actual human dialogue.

It’s my fault. I tend to ramble whatever is in my head out loud and when those ramblings concern a choice already made, it is likely to be confusing. I am just one of those people that need to talk it out and examine every angle of a situation before feeling comfortable. It’s just that I tend to do it post actual decision and not before as most people do. It never actually causes me to change my mind, as I am not one to regret, but it does serve to greatly frustrate and confuse those around me. The husband knows me better than most, but even he isn’t quite sure how to deal with the look after I leap conversations. Being an original does have a price.