Aging BlaQ: Shriveling Ovaries: The New Mating Call

I'm a believer in animal instinct. I believe that as humans we were all born with innate responses and reactions to people and situations. Most of the time, we can't quite put our finger on why this response happens, but if we go with our instinct, we can all rest assured that we'll end up on the good side of that particular situation.

Lately, since I've turned 30, I've had conversations with men about life/love/& the pursuit of the draws. I could try to explain them, but there's no explaining this isht!

Example #1

Him: "Do you want kids some day?"

Me: "Maybe. I definitely want the option."

Him: "Well let me know when I can give a donation."

Me: "A donation?"

Him: "Yeah, if you want kids, I can donate to the cause."

---silence---

Me: "Well, I appreciate the offer, but I'm gon' have to pass on that one."

Him: "Oh, no problem. I try to help when I can." 

Example #2

Him: "So how did your interview go?"

Me: "I think it went well - they seemed impressed."

Him: "Well, congratulations are in order!"

Me: "Why? That was just the first interview. I don't know if I made the 2nd round."

Him: "You said they were impressed."

Me: "Yeah."

Him: "I'm just saying. If I'm grooming you to have my babies in a couple of years. I want to make sure you get a job you like."

Me: "What the fck, man?"

Him: "Oh, sorry."

Now, instinct has CLEARLY ruled on both of these individuals. But I'm not here to talk about my instinct, I'm here to talk about male instinct.

Where am I going with this? Walk with me, please...

The one thing that I was never able to adequately explain to my male friends is the dire situation and vulnerable state a childless, single woman finds herself at the age of 30+. Maybe if I used the words "mental and physical anguish", that would better describe how 30 signifies the beginning of the end for some women. Granted, I don't want to be pregnant; nor am I scheming to poke holes in condoms to get a baby... And no, playboy, I am not accepting donations for your illegitimate kids that you have no intention of raising... But I do hear the faint shriveling of my ovaries and eggs (it sounds like a crumbled up paper bag) along with the tick-tock of the old biological clock. The clock is loud but the shriveling isn't. The shriveling makes me sad... I digress.

As the last of my friends turn the big 3-0, it has been quite interesting to see how they have dealt with the pressure. One vowed to give up her bi-sexual lifestyle for the promise of kids and a husband with her ex-con ex-boyfriend (a sure catch). One vowed to keep the punani under wraps until the engagement ring pulls those dusty panties down. Still another gave up all her side-dudes to wait for the Lord to send her the soul-mate she was promised (ok, that was me). Yet, we all have come to our senses (somewhat) and realized that life does not end at 30.

So, I say all that to say this... I believe that men are capable of hearing the shriveling of eggs spoiling and ovaries singing the fat-lady blues. I don't know that it looks like desperation or the wave of a white flag on the battlefield, but I do believe that they know when we are ready to have babies. Now, you will most definitely have to weed through the people who make plans for your uterus without you (see example #2), but instinct should help with all that.

Something happened on the way to 30

Weight Watchers called "We have the solution"

Something happened on the way to 30

The switch in my hips turned into a limp

Something happened on the way to 30

The pretty complexion became mole central

(Party up in here! Moles stay #winning!)

Something happened on the way to 30

Afternoons spent thinking "Did I take my medication?"

Something happened on the way to 40

I finally stopped caring about my age...

The End. Happy Birthday, Brian. :-)