a personal census

making up the guest list for this sunday's soiree, i once again see how different my life is than most women, er, most people, my age. not that i'm unaware, but sometimes such clear enumeration makes me ponder. i've invited 4 gay men. 2 women of questionable sexuality -- both claim hetero, but sheesh, knock me down with a golf club, ok? 2 single straight women. both attractive and successful. one also just out of a messy relationship with a married man, and the other recently relocated 2000 miles and works 10 trillion hours as a restaurant gm. i did manage to butch it up a bit with 4 hetero men, but all are 1/2 of a married couple. of all these people, only one couple has kids, and lol, they are rock singers. hardly joe-and-jane minivan.

i've no doubt the editor would be delighted to come, although his habit is to spend fri-sun in nyc. i kinda want to show him off, international guru and all, (what's bill gates/george soros/phillip roth/davos really like, guru?) but truly i'd rather not have the bother of an appendage. (are you having fun, guru? need some more bubbly, guru?) so it's easier just to brag about bagging him, kinda like a 14-pt buck still at the taxidermy shop.

truly statistically amazing that of 17 people hovering around 40, only 1 couple has progeny concerns. nobody else has to scramble for sitters, come late because of soccer, or leave early for gymnastics. or *gasp!* ruin the day and actually bring their damn kids. only 2 people have been divorced. 1 because he is actually gay.

less than 14% of american women my age have never married. my long-term girlfriends, all of whom live far away now, are mostly stay-at home moms. a lucky fall-out of income bracket, accorded by judicious husband selections. on the phone the other day, i admitted that it's clear my clock never ticked loudly enough, and my ovaries are now superfluous. (did i even get a clock? or just extra boobage?) the g/f on the other end asked if i regretted never having children. to my ears a strange question, since both her littles were conceived carelessly, and she detests being a "mother". when i was a kid, people would ask if i minded not having siblings. obviously, as an only child, my dearth of replicas was beyond my control, and i had no other frame of reference. i never knew what to reply. naturally, i wanted to be polite, but even when i was quite young it sounded like such a stoopid question.

so now i was being asked the mature equivalent.

i'm so fiercely protective (and spoiled by) of my solitude, what would it be like to not ever have a moment to myself? on the toilet, in the tub, cutting up chicken, and always hearing, "MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!" hell, i was one kid, and my mother got sick of hearing that! to have my days consumed with carpools and cookies, control issues, and mean kids and meaner desperate housewives. my social circle defined by pta and mommy-and-me.

i don't have a life partner. into what suffocating box would my choices have been wedged if i was a single parent? my current career would be impossible, and my planned next one equally so. as briefly as my mom was single, it was horribly hard for us both. even when a teen, i knew my carved-in-stone-order was man 1st, baby 2nd. dummy me, sucked at choosing men though.

so, yes, some of my outcomes have been determined simply by not choosing. but some of the big ones, like no children and not marrying inappropriately, are the real and good result of choosing "no."

do i regret not having kids? no.

i'm not one who looks back wistfully at mighta-kinda-coulda-been. it's the present and the future. my life will not be defined by absence, but by promise.

the criteria for my guest list was to be exceptionally funny.

not one person will talk about vaccinations, peanut allergies or "percentiles". let the bubbles flow.