It's getting harder for me to write lately. I guess because things are going fairly well so I have less to complain about. I still have this underlying fear that HAM is only with me for my money and a place to live, and as soon as he is financially able to move on, he'll go find a younger girl with a bigger butt. He says he loves me, and he says a lot of really sweet things to me, and he's mostly good to me with the occasional making fun of me, but it's never in a mean-spirited way - it's always just playing with me. Even though sometimes I don't like it. So what I mean is, my fear is probably irrational. But then I have this other fear that he really does love me right now, but he'll grow out of this relationship because he's so young and I'll be left close to middle-aged, childless, unmarried, and totally alone. I mean, I suppose it wouldn't be all bad - I could travel to different countries and see the world - something I've always wanted to do. I could move wherever I wanted and I wouldn't have to take anyone else into consideration. I'd probably lose weight because I always lose weight when I'm single. And there are plenty of age-defying tactics available to women these days like botox and whatnot, so I even if I am middle-aged, I don't have to look that way. And sometimes I don't feel 100% happy, because of the teasing. It's really subtle and I'm probably being oversensitive because of past relationships where I was outright abused by men and called horrible names. But I can't talk to him about my past, so if it does bother me, I can't say why. I got him to stop calling me a bird and to stop mimicking my laugh, but he still says other little things...and they are so little I can't even give an example, but I know I don't like how I feel when he says them. But still, that is minor, it's not something to question a relationship over. I love HAM and I want us to stay together. He is absolutely terrified of getting me pregnant. I know he's young and just starting college and it would be terrible timing, and I don't want to have a baby right now either, but I don't think it would be the MOST horrible thing to happen. It would be better than getting Cancer or Aids. Haha, having a baby would be better than contracting AIDS. That's a pretty sad comparison, isn't it? Well, I'm still not sure if I even want to have babies. Part of me thinks, yes, I want kids, a couple, maybe a few, so I have cool adults in my life one day, and someone to take care of me when I'm old. But all that in between time? Like, the baby part would be okay, but then they start to grow and start to develop a personality of their own and then it becomes a neverending battle of wills. Did you go potty? I don't have to go potty. Put your shoes on. I can't find them. You need to wear a coat. I don't want to wear a coat. And then when they get older: You need to be home by eleven. Mom, everyone else's parents let them stay out until midnight! You think you're going out dressed like that? Mom, all the other kids dress like this! You're grounded! I hate you, I wish I was never born! And so on...so basically, I would be okay with a baby, and okay with an adult who lives separately from me, but I don't want a toddler or a teenager or a bitter, resentful 20-something. Can't I just skip all that and just have the good parts of child-rearing? I guess parents think there are more good times than bad, though, and maybe there is something to be said for that. I've never had kids so how would I know how terrible or wonderful it can be? I mean, when I had my dog, he puked every time he went in the car (which was several times a week because of my husband's job), he attacked anything that wasn't human, he was terrified of his own shadow, he was the pickiest eater on the planet, he had horrendous smelling farts, he snored, his breath smelled like rotten poop, and he frequently tried to dry-hump his little sister, but you know what? I loved him no matter what he did, no matter how he smelled or what he ate (he once dug up me and my husband's poop and ate it), no matter how many dogs he attacked, no matter how many times he ran and hid when he heard loud noises, and no matter how many times he puked in the car. I loved him with all my heart. And when he was murdered, my heart broke into a million pieces, never to be fully repaired. So I got his name tattooed on my neck. I loved that dog. I still love that dog. I have a picture of him in my wallet to this day. He was like a child to me, the closest thing I've ever had to a child. So if having children is anything like my relationship with that dog, then I get it. I guess I do get it. Unconditional love.
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