A good friend of mine announced today that she was pregnant. After congratulating her, my first narcissistic thought was, “That’ll never be me and that sucks.” Here’s a bit of disclosure: My partner is someone 15 years my elder with pretty serious arthritis. She can’t open the orange juice, never mind hold a baby. #BackedMyselfIntoThatCorner — If you think many queer women’s ovaries don’t squeal for kidlets at some point, you’re nuts. The reality is that my partner is in her mid-40’s, in lots of pain, and horrible with kids… regardless, we are over a decade away from being financially ready for that commitment despite my ovaries screaming at me. #FirstWorldProblems, right? Well kinda… except I’m mixing up my karmic roux here and although that’s not an issue at the forefront of my “today,” what happens when it is? My relationship isn’t the steadiest teeter totter around, and I have a feeling this is what may eventually end it… and I realize one thing: It’s completely fucking selfish.
That’s my Wednesday evening revelation brought to you by hot cocoa brimming with peppermint schnapps.