Last Saturday I went to a party and chatted with a very pregnant acquaintance and an EMT for hours. I'd truly like to know how many men go to parties and end up talking about all the horrors that can go wrong in a vagina. Somehow a light hearted conversation about my fear of blood tests ended up in talk of baby's heads getting stuck, forceps, forcefully breaking the water, blue babies, how to resuscitate blue babies, pitocin, etc. I stared longingly at the room with the husbands in it, wondering why I don't know a damn thing about sports.
Of course I've had conversations such as these when I actually bothered to ask friends about their experiences, but I assure you the information was never shoved down my throat while at a party for christ's sake. I mean when they were talking about the "vacuum" I nearly fainted right there. Really, didn't these ladies see me pulling on the same strand of hair for a half hour and tugging at my lip? How about all the times I half sat up, then sat back down? I don't know what I could have possibly done to disguise my discomfort.
What a way to dash all my hopes and dreams. I can't stand doctors and nurses and hospitals; yuck to all of it. For a woman that really wants to get married and have children, I hope I never fucking get married or have children. For a while there I preferred to have a child first and then get married when I'm older, but whatever. I've put too much pressure on myself for years and I'm caring less and less about these institutions. In fact, the more time I spend with family and the more parties I go to, the more I think it's all a lousy idea. Cynicism has entered the building.
Eventually I found myself in the other room. I said something to the degree of: "I heard the Bears are playing the Mariners in a couple weeks." Oops.
Even today when I was stuck in the worst traffic I've seen in years, I had no idea what was going on. I was on the 290 trying to merge to 90/94 for a full 25 minutes when I finally cut over to Congress and went through downtown. While waiting for a light I saw a woman in a Packer's sweatshirt. Oh.
It took me an hour and a half to get home and if I stayed on the highway it probably would have taken 2. Guess I just can't be a sports fan.