Heracles oh Heracles

I had lunch with a friend today and we discussed a great many important things happening in our lives.

My friend, as is typical of pretty much everyone I know, is pregnant. Unusually, this is her first. I respect her so very much because she is around my age. I do wish I were just like her, though. Somehow, she has managed to get herself married and with child within the last few years. sigh! but! I am very happy for her and no amount of envy that I may feel towards that type of situation could ever detract from how wonderful I think life can be for people, especially for those who do whatever it is that they do, and what they do is 100% perfect so that is why they are living that 100% perfect life. So I am very happy for her and I love the fact that she is living her dream. She deserves it!

I am not always sure if I ought to have kids. With my history of traumatic experiences with luck or fate, I ought to leave well enough alone. But I have to say, sometimes all I want to do is nestle myself deep inside that lovely huge lovesac and embroider and knit until I have outfitted a household ready for an army of little brilliant scientists. And little MHes.

But then sometimes I worry that there will never be another unfortunate soul of my blood, good old MH- who did not receive the greatest education, never had any sort of positive role models, and certainly doesn't have her shit together any better than anyone 15 years younger.

I can't blame my parents because emulating them was not an option, due to my unending disdain. I can only blame myself. I sometimes wonder how my life would have been different if I had made different choices in different times. But now I realize that it doesn't matter any longer anyway. Lessons are sometimes learned too late.

Luring men into fatherhood never works, but if I were younger perhaps I would be a mother right now and I wouldn't give two farts what anyone thought about it. But stupid MH. I'm always concerned with my dignity, self-respect and of course, the respect of some other fucking idiot.

Confidentially, if Heracles were dumb enough to have sex with me unprotected, I'd most happily do my damnedest to get pregnant. I would. I would nurture any child I had at this advanced age, and I wouldn't have much urge to even notify any sperm supplier, especially if he had no desire to father my children!

I wouldn't expect child support. If a man doesn't want his child, why bother with the money aspect of it? It seems so backwards to me. I would think he should pay if he WANTS access to the child. Simple supply and demand.

Oh well. I will be childless. I can handle it because I am scared of it all anyhow. Mothering human beings is one of those truly thankless careers. We, as human females, want NOTHING more than to have children and take care of them, but somehow, as in so many other ways, my intended path never stuck with the main.

And that, my dears, is why I am sitting here right now, almost finished with a bottle of barely palatable CA merlot and wondering what the fuck I'm doing here worrying about being alone the rest of my life when I have a dog and a pension.

It's cold over here on the back burner

I am in my twilight dating years, and I'm sitting around waiting for Heracles to decide what he wants to do with me.

He knows he has all the power because AS A WOMAN, can I REALLY ask him to marry me? Hell no. I wonder if I'm not the one for him, because if I were, wouldn't he have done something to make our relationship more solidified in order to maintain it? But he didn't. He didn't do anything at all. He just moved and he continues to send me texts once or twice every day.

What does that mean? I'm not a veteran texter, so I can't know.

All I know is that Heracles has never told me he loves me. He has never said anything about a future with me.

He bought me a dog for Christmas last year, but I would be a total idiot to read anything into THAT. He'd only deny it.

It reminds me of Only Angels Have Wings, in which Cary Grant's tough guy will "never ask a woman" to do anything except give him a match.

So here I am with my dog, sitting around on the back burner, and friends are already asking me if I'm interested in meeting somebody they know. If I were to tell- I mean text- Heracles tomorrow that it's all over between us, I would probably still stand a chance of finding a husband for my life. I really do need a partner. Oh, and my brother told me that his attorney asked, "Hey man is your sister single?" Ha ha. Just what I need. Another brilliant man who thinks he's the absolute shit. I went from being married to a man who refused to do anything as cheap and dirty as work, to a man whose biggest desire in life is riches, and there seems to be no happy medium. I'm looking for that happy medium. I want a hard working man who isn't lazy or stupid, but doesn't measure his worth by how many millions he has either. A simple guy who cares about his family and his home. I'd be his family and I'd share his home.

I'm tired of being alone. I really am.

You can say what you want, but I don't like it anymore. I don't want to be alone when I get old. I don't want to die in some nursing home by myself, I probably would even if I have kids because kids don't give a shit either.

I am confused. Is it worth it to give Heracles the time he may require to decide whether he wants to spend his life with me or should I just ask him point blank what his plans are? I hate to scare the poor guy off but then again he isn't being very kind by keeping me on the back burner.

And you thought only women knew how to use the back burner

No, dear reader. I have not been obsessing about or stalking Frank, who is referred to around here a little bit, admittedly. I have used him as a character to my friends who do not work with me, and yes, I have spent many hours thinking about how wonderful life would be *if* he weren't such a nerd, if he had more spine, if he had a better sense of humor, were a *tad* bit wicked (not in an unhygienic perverted way), if he were more enjoyable to be around. But alas, he is none of the above.

Around about March, Frank returned some books to me. He left them on my desk. I asked my brother what that's supposed to mean. He said, quite matter-of-factly, that Frank must have a new lady in his life. I laughed it off. Please. Nobody could put up with him. Right?

Fast Forward to several weeks ago, when Frank slyly mentioned his "friend," who he referred to as "her" and "she," leading me to suspect that he did, in fact have a lady friend. But, it's just his FRIEND, I reasoned. Otherwise he would have said, my GIRLFRIEND. Right?

Fast forward again to my birthday, which I hardly enjoy discussing, especially when I am charged with the unpleasant business of exposing one man's scheme. For weeks, I had plans with a good friend from the office (Agnes) to have dinner and a couple drinks after work that night. Day of, Frank approached me and wished me a happy day. I thanked him kindly and continued with my work, as I would be expected to do, since Frank has taken to largely ignoring poor old aging MH lately. But no, not this time. Frank said, "Have you decided where Agnes and I are going to take you for dinner tonight?" Of course I was dumbfounded. I replied that I wasn't aware that Frank wanted to come along, but he was absolutely welcome to do so, provided nobody try to "take me out." Frank chuckled. "Alright, then, we'll see you at 6:30."

Why, I wondered, was Frank suddenly being nice to me again? Did he finally forgive the New Years Eve disaster? Was he planning on introducing me to his "lady friend?" Why the hell would he invite her along? As per my new therapist's advice, I decided not to obsess about questions I couldn't possibly answer, and forgot about the whole thing.

Dinner time rolled around, and Agnes arrived. We all decided to try out a new Japanese restaurant, since Frank had already, as he put it- scoped it out- and there were "probably" some vegan selections. All I wanted was a beer, and thankfully it turns out that's exactly what I got! Over the course of our interesting dinner conversation, Agnes innocently questioned Frank about what he has been up to lately. He ho-hummed around while I sipped my beer and disinterestedly inspected the light fixture above the beer cooler. After getting nowhere, Agnes coyly said, "Oh. Frank! Oops! Didn't MH know about Erica? MH; didn't you know Frank had a girlfriend?" I smiled ever so nicely, and responded that I was happy to hear his good news. "Tell me all about her," I said, as politely as I could manage. Why not tell me? I'm only one year OLDER today, you know, one year CLOSER to barrenness and all. Just go ahead and tell me all about how you have found your perfect mate and you are planning a fall wedding because she's knocked up. Go for it.

But it turned out that Frank had news that was not so wonderful. His new love, it seemed, was not meant to be. Erica's dog peed on Frank's foot and Erica (being a psychologist) did not like his response. She thinks his communication style is all wrong.

Erica may have a point, there. And I like her dog, too.