At What Point Do I Stop Obsessing?

This is the question I recently asked myself in the midst of another hysterical breakdown while driving away from bridal shower #4,390. (number not exact)

I’d like to go to these events and have fun, be happy, and NOT CRY about how terrible my life is because I haven’t found a lasting love yet. Guess it didn’t help that I was on the verge of another break up as I handed over the gift and declared congratulations to the bride-to-be (in front of everyone) while making a spectacle of myself, wiping away my selfish tears.

Congratulations Emily!!!

At what point do I stop obsessing over this? I’m 38 years old and have been dreaming of love since I was a child.

16 Years Old

I was lucky enough to find true love in college, but it didn’t work out and he passed away. At some point in my life, I have to find a way to be happy for others and cease the self-inflicted torment of a bleak future filled with solitude and silence. 

I’ve noticed recently that the holidays are much quieter. My siblings have their own families to hunt for Easter eggs with, and even if we do get together, there’s still that good half of the day that’s just me, my Mom and my Dad.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but it can only get worse as the years go on, unless someday things change for the better!

For some strange reason, I’ve always gotten in my own way. People have told me that my whole life, but mostly it was about my acting pursuits. Now I’m realizing that it also pertains to my love life. I never truly believed that I would ever find “the one”, always casting myself as the forever-single-girl. 

Party of one.  

I’ve made myself into a woman who never gets the guy, yet I complain, worry, cry and blog about it. 

Well, folks, things are gonna change! I am tossing my torment to the wind.   I cannot let myself wake up one day at 60 years old and still be deeply upset and worried about my singleness while I’m attending my goddaughter’s wedding. She’s one year old right now, but I’m sure that doll face will be walking down the aisle, and I want to cheer her on with tears of JOY, not of loneliness.

But how do I turn over this new leaf?

How do I continue to want to find love while discontinuing the fear of possibly never being so lucky?  

My sister sat me down a few weeks ago and said: Give me the top ten things you are looking for in a man.

Then she proceeded to write them out for me...

1. Supportive of my ambitions
2. Spiritual
3. Kind
4. Open
5. Financially secure
6. A family man/wants kids
7. Likes art & culture
8. Selfless/appreciates me
9. Ambitious
10. Attractive
11. No addictions (had to throw that one in there)

Then she turned the list around and said: Now, does anything on this list represent who YOU are?

Well, Yes! The entire list represents me!

 

Then she said: I think we all tend to look for someone very similar to ourselves, which isn’t a bad thing, but try and be open to finding someone who fills in your gaps. He may not have everything on this list, but he’ll bring other things to your life that you may appreciate and be better because of it.

 

 

My amazing family knows how to wish me a happy birthday!

So do the little ones!

Part V: Is It Better To Have Loved And Lost Than To Never Have Loved At All?

How do you quantify the saddest time in your life to a beautiful lesson?

• If I never had to deal with ____, I would not have ended up doing ___.

How do you justify life’s curve balls?

• If ___ never happened, I wouldn’t have ended up meeting ___.

You can’t.

I knew a person who drove himself manic trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together after his friend died in a car accident. He thought he could figure out God’s reason for taking his friend and he came up with a pretty convincing revelation, but while he was passionately linking the chain of events together and professing that he knew God’s secret, I couldn’t help but want to shake him and remind him that we all die at some point – young or old – we are humble humans with an anonymous expiration date.

It’s not an easy thing to let someone go. Believe me… but in my opinion, there is no rhyme or reason to why anything happens. There is no cause and effect answer button that will relieve you of your pain by explaining that it was all for the best. 

If Mark had never died, I believe I still would have ended up right where I am today. Perhaps I would have traveled on a different route, but if it wasn’t Mark’s dying that forced me into therapy, self-discovery and healing from other painful things in my life, it would have been something or someone else.  

I will never be able to find happiness in Marks passing. I miss him.

He was wonderful. 

So, IS it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?

Absolutely!

 I would have never known what it is like to be in mad, crazy, infatuated, immature love. For all of my pain and sadness, I will never trade that blessing.

While his heart beat, Mark taught me how to love, how to have fun, how to be silly and care free, how to not give a shit what people think; and as he lay sprinkled by the earth and mounds of sunflowers and sad goodbyes, he teaches me to be strong, to keep moving forward with ambition and joy, to remember that life is short and to spend my precious time doing what brings me happiness and sharing that time with the people I love. 

Mark gave me a broad perspective on life, which in turn has grounded me and given me genuine peace.

Coming soon... "What David Taught Me" - a children's book dedicated to Mark! 

 

Part IV: Is It Better To Have Loved And Lost Than To Never Have Loved At All?

I had wished Marks death.

Not literally “I want Mark to die. Die Mark DIE!!!”, but there was one day when I was 19 years old and just started my very first acting class, when I was practicing my acting in the bathroom mirror. I was trying to make myself cry. I thought about Mark ever dying and how I would feel. I stood in front of the mirror, acted out a hypothetical moment of someone telling me such horrible news, and cried. I knew what I was doing was totally wrong, but, “SCORE!!!”  I was elated that I found a way to cry instantly if I ever needed to.

How ridiculous is that? THAT is what I beat myself up for, for 10 years. For being a dumb kid crying in front of a mirror and for hanging up on his drunk ass a few years later? 

It took me a few weeks to recover from my discovery that my therapist, Dr. Simon, was right. I was floored and sickened that I put my life on hold to beat myself up for THAT LONG over something so excusable. 

While waiting for Mark to be found and then grieving over his death, I gained weight, became addicted to Tylenol PM, drank a bottle of wine every night and passively tried to kill myself few times. I performed my Senior Cabaret, opened Hair at Cal State Fullerton, visited my brother in New York, performed Hair in Chicago that summer and graduated from college a semester late. In the midst of the Mark mayhem, I ignored all of my mail. Letter after letter urging me to file my papers with the admissions office in order to graduate in 1996 piled up on my bedroom floor.  By the time I tried to register for my diploma, it was too late. I had missed the deadline and was allowed to “walk” but my official graduation date was pushed to 1997. What a blow. I had worked so hard for four years to graduate on time, and it slipped right through my fingers. Needless to say, “walking” was not the highlight of my college career. I felt like a fraud on graduation day, like I didn’t belong with all of my best friends and classmates who actually opened their mail. 

I was furious that I had missed my graduation deadline and I had no one to blame but myself. I just wanted to be done with school and not have to walk down those theatre department hallways where I fell in love with Mark. I never wanted to step foot again on that Performing Arts lawn where he and I used to run into each other’s arms. Instead, I was forced to return to school and take a silly ballet class to stay a “student” and finish out an extra semester due to my lack of responsibility.

Yes, it was a terrible time in my life. Not only did Mark die, but all tons of shit hit the fan to make matters worse.

It was the night of our first preview (with an audience) for Hair and I had just buried Mark earlier that day. I showed up to the dressing rooms in my light pink funeral dress (hell no to black!) with puffy eyes and carrying a large tray of uneaten sandwiches from the reception. Again, I was surrounded with love and support from my friends, which was so wonderful yet something very strange and damaging happened.

I was in the dressing room when the Stage Manager announced:

10 minutes to places! Theresa, Alan wants to talk to you…

Alan was a Grad Student and one of the cast members of Hair. He and I did the “preshow” together which was this dark scene added to the top of the show by our nutty director who thought it’d be cool to start off Hair with an improvised scene that took place in a current day underground night club where the owner (Alan) and the waitress (Me) get into a huge screaming argument which then kicks everyone back to the 1960s and then Hair, the musical, begins.

I stepped out of the dressing room and had a chat with Allen in the hallway.

Theresa, I know this is a very sad time in your life, and maybe this isn’t the best time to tell you this but… (Shuffling his feet)… I’m in love with you. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known Theresa, and I just can’t keep it in any longer. Especially now, seeing you in such pain, I just need to tell you that I am in love with you. Maybe when things calm down, you can give me a chance? Mark was a lucky guy, but I’m here now with my heart in my hands...

I stood there shocked, flattered, caught off guard, confused, kind of offended but cautious of his feelings and not at all interested in Alan. He was weird and I always got the creeps from him.

Oh wow. uh... I don’t know what to say…

You don’t have to say anything. I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

No, I appreciate it, but you do realize I just buried Mark today, right? Like, 3 hours ago?

I do know, I’m sorry, it’s bad timing.

I’m very flattered. Thank you for being so honest with me. I’ll be honest with you too – I’m not interested in you like that. Sorry… I just can’t feel anything for anyone right now, and I never felt that way for you in the past, so I’m pretty sure I won’t feel that way for you in the future. But thank you for your warmth and honesty and I’m sorry I cannot return the affection.
 

He was cool with it. We parted ways.

A few minutes later, Alan and I were on stage, in our preshow scene in front of an audience of 500 people. 

This preshow scene always made me nervous. I had to play a tough cocktail waitress who gets into a screaming match with her manager (Alan) and I just never could figure out how to play that type of role. I was very young and inexperienced. I was always cast as the princess or the dumb cute girl, and I just had the hardest time mustering up a hard-edged underground drug addict waitress character, especially during the saddest time in my life! I had no energy. This worried Alan, the older grad student who had figured out his “craft” a long time ago. He was always trying to coach me into finding my anger to give the scene the weight it needed, and I just couldn’t deliver. On top of that, we had to IMPROVISE the scene. There was no script! I just had to whip up some dialogue out of thin air and create some kind of nasty screeching fight. Improv scared me. Nothing about this scene tickled me. I dreaded it.

So, there I was, hours after I just buried Mark, standing on stage in front of a full house, scared out of my mind and trying to act with grad student Allen who just professed his love to me. Our little improv scene ensued and he escalated it into a fight, I tried to “fight” back because that’s what the scene called for, we got into a lukewarm yelling match and then he turned to me with fury and screamed in my face WELL AT LEAST I'M NOT FLOATING IN SOME FUCKING RIVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I could not believe what just happened to me. Was he pissed off at me for not loving him back? 

I lost my shit. 

That fight scene that I was so scared of ended up being violent and terrifying. (just want Alan wanted)

I lost it so badly that a few hippies from the wings had to carry me off stage. I was kicking, screaming, sobbing, using every curse word I could think of, I was practically vomiting on my own tears I was so angry. He was yelling back all sorts of hurtful things about dying in a lake, floating in a river, drowning, being "fucking dead", it was terrible and it all happened in front of 500 paying spectators.

My friends had to calm me down back stage. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

What just happened to me?

My friends told me what happened: Alan made that whole story up about his love for me. It was his prep work for our preshow scene. He told me he loved me in the hallway, then acted hurt on stage and used my vulnerability about Mark to make the scene come alive. He figured out a way to pull my anger out of me for the sake of the scene. 

Faculty came down hard on Alan. He was pulled from the show. He was allowed to stay at Cal State Fullerton and earn his MFA, but he was not allowed to do any shows after that. 

He apologized. I said, Thanks for the apology, but Fuck You.

These bits of shrapnel: not graduating on time, the passive suicide attempts, demented grad student Alan, Mark's body not being in one piece, etc... these were easier to get over when compared to the years it took to understand the depth of my pain, but here I am, on the other side, and I have learned so much about myself and the beautiful journey of life...

Stay tuned for the final installment, where I get to talk about all the happy stuff!

Part III: Is It Better To Have Loved And Lost Than To Never Have Loved At All?

Time moved slowly as we waited for Mark to be found. It took about 10 days for Search and Rescue to find him. Funny thing is, his body was discovered in the very spot the where accident occurred. His best friend Jerry accompanied the rescue team in the helicopter, they flew over the lake and Jerry pointed to where he thought they were that night. A diver jumped out, swam to the bottom and found Mark’s body – or pieces of.

I was curious as to why it was a closed casket funeral and asked Mark’s Mother. 

What’s he wearing in there? I was picturing him in a blue suit with his sweet curly blond hair, hands folded, shiny black shoes.

I’ll never forget her exact words.

Oh honey, since you asked, I’m going to tell you the truth…he’s not wearing any clothes. He wasn’t found in one piece, so we gathered him up and wrapped him in a shroud.

I’ll never forget the horror and disappointment I felt. I guess she needed to get that off of her chest, but I really wish she hadn’t told me that.

Later I found out that Mark wasn’t in one piece because the on-coming boat that had Mark’s fate sealed in his future had struck Mark smack dab in the middle of his chest, killed him instantly and launched him into the water. At least he didn’t die in a panic, drowning and in pain. But wow, the thought of his body not being in one piece really disturbed me. It still does. At the time I was thinking, “What do you mean he’s not in one piece? Is he missing a thumb or an entire ARM? Is his head in there? Are all his toes still attached to his feet? What?”  I couldn’t bear to ask though. Best to just let it go. 

I spoke the eulogy. I proclaimed my love for Mark and how I had planned on marrying him and having his children, which is odd since we were broken up and the last time I spoke to him I was a complete bitch. I made myself into a victim who lost her one and only true love, which I knew deep down wasn’t completely true. Absolutely did I lose one of my soul mates and positively was I torn to pieces over his death, but I was also beefing up my pain to torture myself for being mean to him a few weeks prior. Of course, I didn’t know I was doing that at the time. I discovered all this in therapy 10 years later, and what a painful revelation that was to finally figure out that I had punished myself for so long. 

I subconsciously blamed myself for his death. Maybe if I wasn’t so cruel to him on the phone that night, he would have stayed in town to win me back. 

Mark's sister, Melanie, told me that they had met up for lunch before he left town. He explained to Melaine that he was embarrassed for drunk dialing me late that night, but  he still loved me and knew I was the one for him.  He wanted to marry me. She advised him to tell me all of this when he returns from Lake Havasu.  He agreed to that.

It’s a nice feeling knowing that he died loving me and that maybe I was on his mind if he had any time to reflect before he passed on, but I was left with unsettled, remorseful feelings which I subconsciously covered up by spending the next 10 years never letting myself fall for another man. I decided early on that I’ll most likely never get married and have children. I sabotaged every relationship and chose to date guys who were clearly not right for me. I searched and searched for a Mark replacement. Someone I could have that romantic, sweeping, sugary, incredibly unrealistic puppy love with and every time I thought I found it, it would fizz out very quickly and I’d end up in a heaping crying mess eating a pint of ice cream.  

I was in therapy for four years when I lived in New York. It took my therapist a long long time to convince me that I had been punishing myself.   

Punishing myself? For what??

 

You feel guilty that he died. It’s not your fault Theresa.

That’s insane, Dr. Simon. I know I didn’t kill Mark. Why would I think it’s my fault?

 

There were a few times that I tried to fire Dr. Simon. It pissed me off that he would not let this issue go. Luckily, he did not let me run away. He was holding the key to the truth and he was waiting for me to open that door.

This was the hardest thing I ever had to face, no wonder it took me so long to finally open my eyes and accept the truth: I put myself through hell, I never let myself move on,  the bottom line of my existence was sadness for nearly ten years. My love life was always in turmoil, I was pursing an acting career that repeatedly broke my heart, I was 15 pounds overweight, my insecurities were so terrible that I wouldn’t even let myself wear certain shoes or go to certain bars because I thought I wasn’t “cool” enough. I was a mess and this is why….

Stay tuned for Part IV...

Part II: Is It Better To Have Loved And Lost Than To Never Have Loved At All?

Lake Havasu

Today is November 22, Mark's Birthday. He would have been 42.

It was early April and I was knee deep in preparations for my Senior Cabaret at Cal State Fullerton. I had just mastered my new favorite song that I would be adding to my set list, "Watching the Big Parade Go By" and couldn't wait to sing it for someone.

I raced home, burst through my parent's front door with cassette tape in hand, snapped it into our family stereo, and demanded their attention as I serenaded them with my high belting excitement...

 I couldn't help but feel self-conscious. I got the feeling that they didn't want to hear my song.
Something was off... something didn't feel right...

An awkward silence took over the room. My Mother held up the news article and gently told me: Mark was in a terrible boat accident at Lake Havasu a few days ago. He’s missing.

The next thing I knew, I was in a ball with my arms wrapped around my knees, hysterically crying. I was shaken by the sounds that were coming out of me. I was a howling wolf.
I knew he was gone.

I was in final rehearsals for Hair.
When I returned to the theater, all 40 cast mates, crew and creative team surrounded me with the most unbelievable amount of love and support. Mark was a Theatre student as well, so a good majority of students and faculty had their own stake in the sadness and worry.

I noticed that the Dean of our department, Sally Mitchell, had taped memos on the hallway walls, notifying any passerby that Mark Chotiner, a student here in the Theatre Department, has died.
My reaction: Pure anger. He’s not dead. He’s MISSSING.

I knocked on her door, she invited me in with sympathetic eyes that I just wanted to rip out of their sockets and shove down her throat.
Trying to keep it together, but ready to explode: Sally, with all due respect, I’m upset that you taped up those notes saying that Mark is dead. Regardless if he’s dead or alive, why on earth would you do that? He is missing, not DEAD. Please have some respect for Mark, and myself, and take down those notices right now. RIGHT NOW???
She apologized and assured me that they’d be thrown out.
Have some class, Sally.

I was a mess. Mark, my ex-boyfriend, my first love, the guy I bitched at just a week ago, was missing, and I knew in my heart that he had died. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was shaken awake by the image of his hair floating in the water as his body descends to the bottom of the river.

Spring Break is over. Lake Havasu is shut down while Search and Rescue flies overhead and dives into the waters, looking for Mayor of La Mirada, Bob Chotiner’s son, Mark Chotiner, who was last seen on the lake a few days ago, a news reporter says on the nightly news as a photo of Mark appears in the top left corner of the screen. Half of my face was in that photo. It was a picture of Mark and me hugging.

It all felt so unreal, like I was in a movie. This cannot be happening to me. My photo is on TV and Mark is the topic of the evening news and I think I just lost my soul mate and I don’t know how I am going to live through this, I want to die too.  

The conversation I had with Dean Sally about the death notices didn’t seem to be a priority to her since she made no effort to abide by my wishes, which was a mistake I am sure she regretted when I startled her by bursting thru her fancy office doors, fists full of crumpled up notices, screaming, “TAKE THESE FUCKING NOTES DOWN NOW, SALLY! DO YOU NOT HAVE ANY FUCKING RESPECT FOR HIM? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? HE’S MISSING, NOT DEAD!” I may have felt like a wolf when I was crying, but I was a bear when I yelled.

Stay tuned for Part III …

Is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?

My first love was Mark David Chotiner.

I was 19 years old when I found my lips intertwined with his on the night we met. 

First year of college.

Cal State Fullerton. 

I was at my brother’s fraternity, the Phi Sig house, being dumped by Jon, a guy I dated for 2 months. After we had agreed to remain friends, which surprisingly came true, I met my friend Nikki on the sidewalk...

What happened?

He dumped me.

Are you ok?

Yeah. I guess.

What do you want to do now?

Hum….I looked over at the Lambda Chi house… lets go over there, I heard those guys were cool!

Nikki and I walked over and invited ourselves in.  Mark was the first person I met. God he was gorgeous. He looked like Brad Pitt.

After a few beers, Mark said to me…

You want to see my turtle?

We headed up to his room and he showed me his fish tank with the water turtle. As the night progressed and Lucky Lagers were pounded (that eventually became our favorite beer because of the silly riddles on the inside of the caps), I found myself totally making out with this hot guy with cute surfer hair and super yummy lips who’s name was MARK! He was such a good kisser. It was all pretty innocent.

Later that night, my best friend Steph picked me up. As I climbed into Steph's car, Mark stood there shirtless with the garage door open, one arm up holding onto the edge of the door. His surfer body, six pack abs and loose fitting jeans made Steph and I melt! She wrote something on a napkin, handed it to him and then we drove away.

If you want to have a good time, call my friend Theresa. She thinks you’re cute. 714-637-….

Seven painstaking days went buy until he called. This was before the days of texting, so I had to actually wait for my land line to ring.

What started out as a random rebound make-out session at the Lambda Chi house turned into a beautiful romance that changed my life forever. I guess that’s what happens when cupid’s arrow hits the bull's eye.

We were both students in the Theatre Department. I was majoring in Musical Theatre and he was Set Design. We were that stereotypical, ridiculously cute/nasuauting couple on campus who could not keep their hands off of each other.  People hated and loved us for our sugary, sickening public displays of affection.  Needless to say, we were in love and the entire Theatre Department knew it.

Almost every day after our morning classes, we would meet on the Performing Arts lawn at Cal State Fullterton, but it wasn’t just any old meeting. I’d come running out of the PA building, while he was barreling out of the Arts building across the way, and we’d run to each other with open arms screaming “Baber!!!!!” He’d sweep me off my feet and twirl me around and shower me with kisses. This happened pretty much every day for about a year. I was 19, he was 24, we were both acting like children and it was wonderful.

Not too many people can say that they have experienced that kind of love. I'm glad I did at that young age. I'm not the same person anymore and if someone wanted to act like that with me now, I'd probably tell them to grow up.

Mark was my first real boyfriend and my first love.

I am one of the lucky ones who get to cherish the night I lost my virginity.

The nuns in Catholic School tried to intimidate us into believing that it's a terrible sin to have sex before marriage, but I wasn't convinced. The 12 year old Theresa said to herself, "Nah, I'm going to wait till I'm in love and I think God will be fine with that."
I truly did wait and it was worth it.

It was March 24^th, 1993 at lifeguard station 19 in Huntington Beach. We built a bon fire, made s’mores, drank our Lucky Lager and played Black Crows on our portable stereo, snuggled under the blankets and made love. He actually cried.

Mark and I had so much fun together. Camping in Mexico, Havasu, and Big Sur; going to museums and theatre; parties and hanging out on campus; holidays and birthdays; day dreaming of our wedding and naming our future children (Ashton and Clayton. Geeze we were such hippies!!)

After he graduated from college, he moved to Los Angeles and started pursing set building for commercials. I was still a student juggling 20 units, shows and a job.

I was furious when Mark broke up with me. He wept like a baby and told me that I’m too busy for him and gave me the ridiculous “If you love someone, set them free” speech. My argument was that he needed to suck it up and let me be busy for a while and that I’m not asking to be set free. I reminded him that this is the same reason why he broke up with me last time and that he needs to let me have some personal space to do the things I am passionate about, much like how I’ve given him his personal time to do his hobbies. Regardless, he broke up with me, again, and I walked away completely pissed off.  I loved him, but we had some serious problems: his infidelity, possessiveness and jealousy, and my independence, stubbornness and free spirited life.
Our love for each other would not be enough to make the relationship last. I moved on, with a sad heart, but nevertheless, I was able to let him go.

Six months went by with no communication.

Then one night, as I was in rehearsals for the musical Hair in the Theatre Department, I saw Mark walk by the doorway of the rehearsal room. He backed up, reappeared and waved at me. I thought “What is he doing on campus?” I lost my breath. It was as if I saw a ghost and I wanted to burst out crying. The beautiful memories of our time together came flooding back and my heart was so confused.  I was filled with a longing to be with Mark again, yet logically I knew it’d never work. How will I ever be able to shake him? My friend sitting next to me grabbed my hand and said “Oh my God! Mark!” I sat there stunned.  Later that night he called me at 3am, obviously drunk.

Hey…. Whats up?...

I was so annoyed that he woke me up so late and that he was the typical ex-boyfriend drunk dialing me. That's no way to win me back.

What do you mean “WHAT'S UP????”

I was such a bitch to him.

What are you doing?

I’m SLEEPING Mark… it’s 3am, I’m in rehearsals and studying for finals…GET A LIFE!

Then I hung up.

A week later I got the news that Mark had been at Lake Havasu for Spring Break and that there had been a terrible boat accident. 

Mark was missing. 

Stay tuned for Part II …

Video Store Sad Girl

(First written in May 2011. I'm very much over this guy now, but I wanted to post this story anyway)

My face has become all too familiar to the guys at the local video store and what’s worse is that I’m usually there on the weekends.

If you were the clerk ringing up the cute, and obviously sad, girl renting Blue Valentine and saying “If there’s a guy’s name on my account, will you please take him off?” What would you think?
Girl broke up with boyfriend and now she’s alone, renting movies. 
Bingo! 

Recently she’s been renting more than one movie.The Fighter AND Winters Bone on a Friday night. Alert, alert. Girl is hunkering down this weekend with a batch of intense rentals. What is going on with her? Where are her friends? Why isn’t she dating? And why is she wearing that same bandanna on her head again?

Is love even out there for me or did I miss the boat entirely? My parents are unconsciously blatant about it as well.

Perhaps this is why I am "Video Store Sad Girl": On our way to my goddaughter’s baptism (the closest I’ve gotten to having my own children), my Mom fondly looked over to my Dad and said “Oh Al, our LAST grandchild. Our LAST baptism.  Ohh! This is it!”  From the back seat I meekly said “Um, hello??? I’m still fertile back here.”

It only took two days of quality time with my married friends, their children, my family and all of their children, and my best friend’s daughter’s birthday party where I was the only person there who was single and childless, to break down and bawl hysterically in solitude.

One of the moms came up to me and said, "You are SO BRAVE to come to this party!". I think she was referring to the over sugared/hyper children who could be potentially annoying to someone like me, but what I heard was, "You are SO BRAVE to come to this party given the fact that you are yearning for children and a husband of your own. Doesn't it just kill you to see all this love and not be a part of it?" Man, I was on the verge of tears. Then a friend of mine distracted me with, "I just love reading all about your fabulous life on Facebook! I wish I was still single and free!"

To mend my Video Store Sad Girl heart, I opened up my Facebook Notes and referred to my article "On this Side of the Fence", which did me little good. I was unconsoleable.

Maybe it was a bad weekend to be spending most of my time with children. I'm nearing the end of my fertility, at the apex of my sexual prime and my biological alarm clock is screaming in my face. Shit, 7 years ago my Gynecologist looked up through my legs, while in the midst of my yearly exam, and told me to hurry up and start having babies before it's too late.

Note to self: Stay far away from adorable children when ovulating.
Other Note to self: Return videos.

 

That's Winter, my Goddaughter, my parent's LAST grandchild.