On Having Babies…

I decided to leave my last post up until the feeling subsided. I am a little better now, but left with lots of thoughts/questions about the entire phenomenon.

  1. I have been told that women experience a peak in their sex drive in their late thirties. Is said peak what I am currently experiencing? If so, anybody have any suggestions for how to deal with this, short of an on call boy-toy to do my bidding?
  2. I wonder if there is any connection with the loud ass ticking of my bio-clock? I am nothing if not in tune with my body. I know that I experience a spike in my sex drive between the 14th and 19th day of my cycle, give or take a day on either end. I know the moment I am ovulating; I experience Mittelschmerz ever single, solitary month of my life. I can tell you which ovary is having its turn that month! I guess that’s a good thing — that I’m still ovulating regularly. But I’m off topic. Lately I have been getting ravenously horny instead of my normal horny during ovulation and the week following. I think my body is screaming at me: Look YOU, if you want to have a baby, you better get busy NOW because we’re running out of good eggs!!! I wonder if that’s it?
  3. Watching all of my family surround my grandmother when she passed and in the weeks leading up to her death has also affected me greatly. She had 11 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren. All but 1 were there with her in her last days. Do you know why she was surrounded by this host of love? Because she had kids!! 3 she gave birth to and 5 she fostered (2 of whom I consider my aunt and uncle just like my father’s blood siblings). I shudder to think of what my grandmother’s treatment would have been like in that hospital had they not known we were there and if we weren’t that one of us would be there at any given moment! My grandmother begged us not to leave her alone. Fuck health care “professionals” who treat elderly people like shit. OMG, I can’t even talk about that. All I can say is that I don’t want to be old and alone in a health care facility with no one to fight for me and make sure I receive proper care. In my mind, that means I need to have kids. At least one. I know there are no guarantees that my kids will be normal and humane to me, but I increase my odds by at least having ’em, right?

These thoughts of progeny have me considering my options. I am open to most of the available possibilities, I just have to decide which is right for me. I shall be pondering these for while:

  1. Find a decent guy with whom to enter into a committed loving relationship who wants to have children — soon. Get pregnant the conventional way and birth my own baby (or babies). Sidebar: twins are rampant in my family–every generation, no skipping. None of my cousins nor my brother want to be graced with the honor. I would LOVE to be the one for a couple of reason. First, I am certain that I will only lend my body to parasitic body-snatchers once. Secondly, I fostered 1 year old twins for a while. It was great!!! I miss them and my heart just ached to think of them.
  2. Adopt as a single parent.
  3. Be artificially inseminated.
  4. Be traditionally inseminated by a friend who gets an all clear pass on parental obligations/rights.
  5. Be traditionally inseminated by a friend and co-parent as a non-couple.
  6. Trick some guy into knocking me up by sticking pin-holes in condoms.

OK, so I am not really considering #6, but it seemed to fit in the list of options.

Here are my thoughts on the options:

  1. Too much depends on someone else and perfect timing. As much as I am starting to learn what it means to take control of one’s destiny, I don’t want a lifelong relationship to develop against the clock. I will say that this option is probably my ideal, but I am not so married to it that I won’t consider the others.
  2. I am really open to adoption. In fact, I will probably adopt whether I have my own child or not. It’s something I feel called to in a way. But it’s expensive and I need “approval”. No one does a home visit when someone is thinking of getting pregnant, but talk about adoption and now everybody’s all up in your credit score and what not. I understand why, of course. But the process seems as intrusive as the Top Secret Clearance process I passed on — and consequentially, my job with NSA.
  3. I always get stuck at this question when I consider artificial insemination: Mommy, why would you deliberately choose to bring me into the world without a father?
  4. The same question comes to mind with a traditional sperm donor. I think it would be even harder to say, but you do have a daddy, baby. Mommy just signed papers and promised not to ever tell you who he is.
  5. This is a really viable option for me, should such a friend want children but just not be a good fit for a relationship. I would prefer someone who doesn’t already have children and is not already paying hefty child support payments monthly.

Any thoughts? Is my latest sex drive spike my bio-clock screaming in my ear? I can’t believe, by the way, that I am old enough to even be having this discussion. And for all of you who want to say, Oh, Lex, women are having babies way into their forties and fifties — my line of women menstruate and menopause early! I think mom’s last period was before she was 45!!

P.S. – Mommy will love that her honorable mention in this post is about her period, don’t ya think?


Horny and Stressed

Here’s the thing. There are times, like today and the better part of the last two weeks for me, when I could really say to hell with meditation and centering, yoga and breathing, clear thinking and all the rest and just pound out some stress and tension between the sheets. In fact, lack of regular sex contributes to my stress and tension. I am sure of it. But a “lady” is not supposed to say those things, not supposed to feel that way. Here’s your only warning – this post was not written by a lady.

Now, by “regular sex”, I may not be speaking of the same thing most women my age have in mind. I am talking about twice a day– 4 orgasm each time minimum, sweaty, throat hurting, legs shaky, no holds barred, sky’s the limit regular sex. I am 35 and have been frustrated for the better part of my adult life for want of a satisfying sex life. I tried marriage. That resulted in vanilla sex 3 times a month (if that). Vanilla because he didn’t want to “think of me that way” (read: the way he thought of the folks he paid for sex with); and 3 times a month because – who the fuck knows? Worn out from other antics, I suppose. The bottom line is that a completely uninhibited and confidently skilled, beautiful woman starved for satisfying sex with her husband for years. A separated, completely uninhibited and confidently skilled, beautiful woman tread super cautiously into the dating world because well, one just must be in this day and age – to find that men her age and slightly older tire quickly, recover even less quickly and can await the next time much longer that she can.

A divorced and ready to move on woman hopes for a satisfying relationship, a child or two (if they come at the same time), transparency, partnership, passion and love that endures – with the person who enjoys (with her, for the record) the satisfying sex life described above. I am struggling today and most days with the frustration and fear of not being able to find it all in one place. Right now, I’m just frustrated because the last time I had sex was too damned long ago and it probably wasn’t even that long ago for most people!

When I am experiencing balance and peace in my life, I find it much easier than this week to live in the moment. I find it easier to enjoy each encounter for what it is, without wanting or needing or hoping to cling to it and make it last forever. When I’m stressed because – well, my grandmother just died, the job I had lined up to help me relocate across country got offered to someone else, my rent renewal notice gives me two impossible options (sign another one year lease with no increase in rent, or pay almost $100 more per month to go month-to month), I am faced with choosing between living in a town I can’t afford and not being able to afford the move to a city I can afford to live in, my health and wellness plan has been shot to shit for over a month with the routine interruptions and sadness of my grandmother dying, and the fact that the person who is most willing to rock my world is the person I least want to rock it – I find it impossible to live in the moment. I want to solve all the moments right now. I want to wave a wand and have my perfect life and I want the person I want to comply with my plan to fall into place – naked and beautiful and ready to go whenever and for as long as I am willing.

I really need to get laid. Can you tell?

No, seriously, I think I have exhausted maintenance sex.  I am a very sexual woman with a somewhat unusual sex drive (I’m learning). I want more than great sex yet I’m not willing to sacrifice great sex.  Wanting is exhausting in and of itself – and possibly counter productive.  I want to unleash the secret of making my perfect life happen for me.  Right now.  This moment.  Because I am so horny right now and I want to roll over in these moments and know that that desire is going to be satisfied right away.  Sheesh!

Names Changed to Protect the Guilty

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time in a super tolerant and multicultural suburb of a southern state actually because it is technically is below the Mason Dixon Line and is home of the Klan and has a place called Negro Mountain, there lived a Nubian Goddess learning to embrace self-love and her purpose in the universe outside of the context of organized religion, who had excess baggage to unload so that she could move on with her new, improved, happy, healthy life.

Almost a year after choosing to unload the excess baggage of a troubled and draining marriage, she decided that she missed the comfort of sharing close quarters and a bed with another life form for the better part of six years. Instead of feeling guilty about having what she wanted, as organized religion had trained her so well to do, she decided to open up this area of her life to a friend of 14 years whom she loved dearly in the existing context and grew to love deeper in the new context. Though she enjoyed this present relationship, early on she decided that it would not progress to exclusivity or any such thing until there was official closure with excess baggage.

Then one day, about six months after friend of 14 years became a bedfellow, a high school crush who was never more than a crush since Nubian Goddess had a boyfriend at the time, found her on MySpace. They met for drinks one night and the rest was history – hot, steamy, embracing your sexual energy without shame or guilt and being free, for the first time ever, to just be yourself in bed without judgment kind of history; talking about books with someone who didn’t feel intellectually inferior kind of history; a little touch of chronic misogyny but we’ll chalk that up to being burned in passed relationships kind of history; a he got the Do Not Pick Up label in my cell phone yesterday for calling another woman and chatting it up with her in the kitchen so that Nubian Goddess could hear the conversation (both sides), while she lay naked on her couch realizing that the night had been a toss-up between two women-but still going to try to fit both in kind of history.

About six months after Do Not Pick Up came on the scene, loving friends decided that it was time to start introducing Nubian Goddess to men who were also divorced or divorcing. Somehow, in this crazy world, the shared experience of a failed marriage is imagined to bring like-minded people together. What it brought together were two damaged people who were still very sensitive and quick to project past pain on the current friendship, until they got to know each other and let their respective guards down. A terrific friendship emerged, with really fun – uh—recreation, though it was determined that this would never progress to a committed relationship, as hefty child support payments and other obligations to the old context created financial and time constraints that made for a situation he would not ask Nubian Goddess to endure. The friendship – and occasional fun—continue, pending a conversation inquiring about hope for the marriage, since 2 years of separation has not led either party to file for divorce.

About one month after Nubian Goddess had settled excess baggage situation forever, a phenomenon occurred over which she seemed to have very little control. The iron gates that prevented her from wanting anything more than momentary satisfaction from her entanglements began to disintegrate all by themselves. She found herself wanting real companionship, if not a committed relationship. This desire was devastating to the existing structure as it was never a part of any existing deals. She decided to end things with 14 year friend (now 16 year friend) she loves because she now wanted more than either of them had agreed to at this point and, rather than ask him to change, she chose to bow out and maintain their friendship. If he were interested in more, he could offer such, at his discretion. They remain close friends, although lunch yesterday was both awkward and incredibly funny. They were both convinced, if nothing else, of the strength of their love as friends – no matter what happens later.

Do Not Pick Up is history, and Separated and Satisfied has been too busy working 2 jobs to feed his babies AND put a roof over his head to have the conversation that Nubian Goddess believes will end in—let’s just be friends.

So, a clean slate – almost.

There. I said it.