When it comes to my past relationships, my spouse thinks…
I had no idea, so I asked him outright, and this was the response:
“My understanding is that you didn’t have any serious relationships beforehand. I think that’s accurate? I don’t particularly stay up at night, worrying…”
It’s accurate. I didn’t. And he has no need to worry about any ‘Big Bad Past’…because there simply isn’t one.
Not for lack of option, I hasten to add. But because I chose that I would rather wait for The One. And hope that he had waited for me (he had).
And so we embarked upon the glorious adventure of writing our story together, with no History.
Having said that…there was this one time.
Several times, in fact.
My BFF and I were chatting about our ideal man (probably about ten years ago – LONG before Husby was part of my world) and we…er…invented one.
He was SO gorgeous; corn-fed, muscly, with tousled blond hair, twinkly eyes and a Yorkshire accent (just because). He wore cable-knit jumpers and muddy corduroys, could parallel-park a John Deere, and did the accounts wearing tiny reading glasses, whilst drinking from a huge mug of strong tea.
He liked open fires and baby lambs and was kind-hearted and ready to help anyone. He also had a wicked sense of humour and enjoyed the odd practical joke. We reckoned he had a few devoted sheepdogs, but also had a soft spot for a cat. And just so it felt ‘real’, we reckoned he probably snored horribly.
He was pretty much perfect, and we’d spend (probably more time than was sensible, but it was oh-so-fun) hours intermittently chatting about him and what he was like.
On Monday, I showed you a little glimpse of what it looks like inside my brain:
If you haven’t yet seen this slice of PURE GENIUS, you must. RightNow.
Also, FARMERS, right? Amiright?
The week’s been hard. I think I can wrap up all my missed thankfuls for NaNoGraMo into two words: MY FRIENDS.
[A short pause for an entire change of tack into something a bit icky]
I had a fascinating moment tonight, when I discovered that ‘shaking with anger’ is an actual, real thing.
I won’t name and shame, but one of the groups I’m in on Facebook had a thread where a bunch of moms began joking about swapping their kids, or offering them as prizes to other people. And on the joke went for…a whole heap of responses.
I am trying to tell myself that I really do get that kids can be a lot to handle sometimes. And that parents need space to vent and wish that they were back to the ‘them’ they were before all the additional responsibility…
So I went from posting a truly shitty response, to feeling guilty, because before I ended up in this situation as one half of an infertile couple, I wouldn’t have given it a moment’s thought, either.
But words slung so lightly have the propensity to wound, even inadvertently. Jokes can be painful. And I guarantee that I will take each and every unwanted/underappreciated child. Every. Single. One. If that were only an option.
Because these women are just so incredibly, unbelievably, IMMEASURABLY lucky to have children – those precious offspring denied to me, and so wanted by me (and many other infertile couples I know) – and they take it for granted.
And that hurts.
Join us on Saturday to see whether any of them turned up!
For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!