Just follow the link below, opens to Facebook:
Well, maybe I do. I don’t know.
I’m 32, still unmarried with no kids while friends and family are popping babies left and right, and I keep hearing engagement announcements. It’s like when my mom told me about Longchamp handbags. Ever since she mentioned it to me, I keep seeing them. I like to think that since I do wanna get married and have kids, and it’s an itch I keep picking on, that I keep seeing it around me.
Wanting to get married one day, and slash or wanting to have kids are very personal decisions. Along the way, you wish you meet someone who has the same wants as you. The bf and I are still on a stand off on this issue. He hasn’t told me he does NOT want to get married, or he does NOT want kids. He’s pretty flippant about it, he has mentioned going the surrogate route, but there are days he would say he just can’t stand kids. And if the day comes he decides he does not want either and tells me about it, sure, it would break my heart – frankly, would probably kill my mother who’s pining for a grandchild – it would be hard, but I chose to be with this particular man, I’ll probably still stay with him. Love is being with him; Commitment on the other hand is staying with him.
I’ve said it before, and I’ve said it to my boyfriend, that we are both reading the same book. Things are shaky at the moment not because we don’t love each other or because we always argue. It’s because we are just reading different chapters. Not only do I read fast, but I started reading the book ahead of him. He’s still catching up, and maybe he’s taking his time. If there’s anything I have to worry about, it’s if maybe he stops reading because he’s tired. Relationships can be tiring, I know because I am tired. I’m tired because I keep nagging him to read faster.
Maybe the reason marriage and having kids has always been important to me is because I put a lot of value on family. My family is bat shit crazy on both sides. I think all families are anyway. But the ones I have are my bat shit crazy. It’s the tribe I belong in. It’s my unit. And if anyone of them does not approve of my boyfriend, tough shit because this is what I’m bringing in to the tribe and they have to accept it inasmuch as I accept whoever they bring in. And here lies the dilemma: I am not accepted in his tribe. I look at my boyfriend and I see a man who loves me but can’t hold my hand to bring me in the drum circle. There is no lack of trying on my side. I’ve reached out to unanswered calls. I’ve watched from outside the edge of his family as they buried their dead. I’ve cried for their lost and they don’t even know it. I actually have the best relationship with my boyfriend’s dad who passed away a few months ago. I still visit him on some weekends to talk to him about his son. I like to think he listens to my inane monologues comprised of worries of failing to make his son happy and promises to take care of him. And a lot of begging for him to intervene for my sake.
There is still doubt. I still hope that my boyfriend wouldn’t know the pain of thinking of the way he should have held me closer. We have a love that neither of us had written in our plans, hence the uncertainty. And it’s ok. We will be eventually be on the same page of our book. I just have to wait.
Nana passed away last night.
Well, she’s not “nana” in that sense. She used to be dad’s neighbor back in Colorado City. They literally shared a wall. But that’s not all they shared.
She was very close to my family. She introduced my dad as her brother. It’s her on going joke. “This is my brother Fred. I know, we don’t look the same, but my mother doesn’t want to talk about it.”
I didn’t get the chance to see her often. But when I do, it’s always fun. She’d tell me crazy stories of her hay days. She was an accountant like me, but a fun accountant. We had talks about finding a difference of $1.80 in our books, and knew it a transpose error somewhere, and we’d laugh knowing no one else would understand what that meant. She would show me her tattoos and I’d she her mine. I once saw her passport. It was green. A diplomat’s passport. I still haven’t figured that out but this is one of the reasons why I’ve always thought she was cool.
I know she lived a full life. She did what she wanted. She corrected any mistakes she may have done along the way. One of her final acts was getting in touch with someone she needed to make amends with. She took off and came back happy.
And now, she left us. And she left us happy.
I don’t care for Citibike. It’s nice, I guess. Good for the environment. Makes money for the city. But honestly, I already have a hard time dodging pedestrians and cars, now I have to look out for bikes as well.
I was crossing 54th to Barnes and Noble after a being disappointed from not finding any Parker Pens in Sam Flax when in my periphery, I saw a bike careening towards me. I was busy diddling with my phone, chatting it up with four friends. My only saving grace was I have the light. On the other side, I can hear an old lady screaming.
I clenched. I did not run away. I did not scream, not even a yelp. I just waited to be hit.
But the biker tried to turn. He swerved too fast though. He started falling and he skidded.
I helped him get up and grabbed his bag. I actually apologized. I blurted something in the line of “I have the light” but he started yelling. I thought he was calling me a stupid bitch. And then I saw that he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking behind me. To the old lady. And as I turned, I realized what was happening. She was yelling at him for not slowing down. She was yelling that he could have ran over an old lady.
In my own near miss accident, no one was paying attention to me. No one even noticed my new eyeglasses.
We bought a car and you said let’s drive too far, and drive too fast. I said I’d drive because you’ve never driven before.
I picked the most scenic route I know. I wanted to make sure you enjoyed the view. It’s just us in the car, we rode care free.
Eventually we met up with my friends. I was so glad you met them – in as much as I enjoy your company alone, hearing someone else’s laughter can be fun too. I asked if you want to meet with your friends too, but you declined. You said we can wait, and wait we did. You haven’t told many that you bought a car with me.
We eventually met up with your friends, and it was still a fun ride. I’m still driving and I thought you didn’t mind.
Until you told me you did. And I forgot that you’re in the car too, and that this was your car too.
So I handed the wheel. I sat on the passenger seat. The view was still great, but the drive is a tad slower. I don’t mind. Whatever makes you happy.