About Love, Marriage, Kids and the Whole Nine Yards

I was talking with one of my friends a few days ago… She’s hopefully getting married. (Her hopes not mine, not because there’s anything wrong, I’m very happy for her, just stating a fact. Like Leonard’s mother would say in The Big Bang Theory: They are not my accomplishments.) Anyways, we were talking and planning and fantasizing and all that, when it hit me that ever since I was in high school the simple thought of getting married gave me the creeps. I used to say I didn’t believe in marriage, in my experience it didn’t work so great. My dad is the plain example of a bad succession of marriages. He married for the first time when he was 19 years old, separate and got back together before getting divorce. Then he met my mother when he was 29, a good 10 years later (you’ll think he learned… but no) and he gets married again. This time it lasted close to 11 years. Not bad, eh? Ended horribly though. Last but not least he married my step-mother, and that one was a very lucky mistake.

My mom on the other hand never really re-married, except when she lived with someone I used to call step-father but that too ended horribly. My step-father was an asshole that left her because she couldn’t give him children (my mom had a tumor and they had to take everything out), and because she had to split her time between working, her children, her ailing mother (my grandma has alzhemeirs) and getting his drunk sorry ass off the couch! She never had time for him, blah blah blah…. So he got a young bitch to do all of that and left my mom. Not before making a pass at me when no one was looking.

Marriage, or fake marriages… they never gave me any reason to WANT to get married. Seems to me the whole deal doesn’t work. I believe in living together… it’s the simpler way to either throw his sorry ass out of my life when I get tired, or just make my bags and go. No attorneys, no papers… simply goodbye and that’s that.
Lately, though, I admitted to the possibility of getting married after forty. It would be nice to know you have steady company, someone that can make you laugh, because laughing is so important when one grows old. .. and that still wants to have sex at least once a week, lol. That’s all I ask.

On the subject of kids, well… I had a dream once that kind of cured me a bit of my fear of dying(but that's a different conversation). I was old and laying on my bed, dying and as I looked around me I could see this 3 tall guys with intelligent eyes and a smile so sad, I couldn’t help but cry. They were my sons, I realize, and I was so proud. So proud of whom they were and how they turned out to be… And I made up my mind. I always thought for some reason that if I ever had kids, they would surely be boys. I’m no good with girls though I try… And so I thought well then I want 3 kids or none. I was joking, kind of. But as I approach 30 and my biological clock starts ticking I was completely sincere with my best friend and told her that even if I spent the rest of my life alone I wanted to have one kid. Just one. I don’t need a whole football team, just one kid if possible. I want to know what it feels to have another human being inside of you (and not in a sexual way). If it can’t be for some kind of fertility reason or something; then, I know it would leave a void in my heart but that’s ok too. One can’t ever focus too much on those little holes in one’s life, or we would never be happy. If I get distracted by something else, like traveling with my lover around the world, writing my next best-seller or simply relaxing with a glass of wine and a warm body, it’ll be fine too… I have plenty of nephews and nieces, even have a god-daughter and two of my brothers are not even married so…

I believe there is something great for each of us; we just have to know how to reach it. I’m certain because it’s not my dream, not my aspiration that my something great ain’t the white picket fence, the 3 kids and the whole nine yards. My something great is out there, I still don’t know who or what is it, but I know is there.


My only hope? That it won’t find me too late. I would sincerely hate to die alone in a forgotten bed and just dwell somewhere in the gray past of the paramedics that found me.

So… forget the whole nine yards, just get me my piece of heaven on earth before it’s too late…

Get me love! Get me the kind of love that burns your soul and leaves a mark forever… So get me someone that can make me laugh of myself, and everyone else. That can sincerely hold my hand and tell me I look beautiful or that everything’s going to be alright. Someone that would hug me strongly when I need it but won’t admit I do. Someone that knows all my defects and still finds me cute and charming and lovable… Someone that I can trust and would never, ever, do anything to make me even doubt him. Someone that knows what I want when I haven’t even said anything yet. A “no bullshit” kind of guy that goes to me and don’t start the old dancing around the whole thing, but is sure in what he wants and that what he wants it’s me. That would kiss me until I forget whatever we were fighting about for a while, and that could never ignore me in a hard day or pass on kissing me goodbye each morning.

And I know, sounds kind of fairytale bullshit but I like defects too. Headstrong, argumentative, opinionated, serious, ironic (not so much of a defect for me but still), as stubborn as a mule, full of the charisma of a know-it-all kind of guy or even so shy with everyone else they would think him mute… I don’t mind defects so much, as long as it’s not hitting or misogyny or chauvinistic pigs that think a woman should be a slave.

Deep down I just want what everyone else… someone that understands me, loves me and just wants to willingly, without promises in front of god and the whole world, stay with me. I don’t want a piece of paper but a warm man as my insurance for a companion… for whatever amount of time it lasts.

So on love, marriage, kids and the whole nine yards… I just shrug and smile…