(Start with "Monday" if you can. Although in commemoration of the end of Chanukah you might want to celebrate the Hebrew language by reading my blog from Thursday to Monday.) So what were we talking about? Oh right. Friends and holidays. So last night was the final night of Chanukah. For eight consecutive days I made a feeble attempt to spin a dreidel on carpeting. It's like an analogy for my life.
Anyway, as far as friends go... The only thing worse than being left out of their holiday plans... is being included in them.And the worst of the worst, is when their holiday plans are made in conjunction with a big event, like a wedding. Why do people do that? Make weddings, anniversary parties, bar-mitzvahs during a holiday? Oh great. Kill my entire long weekend why don't you?
You get to sit in holiday traffic--on the roads---in the airports---at the train station... to go to a wedding. Shouldn't there be some sort of express lane? Excuse me, no, I'm not going home for Christmas with these other seven million people. Look, I have proof! Here's my wedding invitation!
I often compare my infertility days to my single days. I was still single at 39 which made me a social outcast. Then I got married and was somewhat let back into the pack. Then I was infertile and cast out again.
Our world doesn't want you to be single past thirty. And it definitely doesn't want you to be single with kids or married without them. I think Siegfried & Roy have it right. Two German gay guys living with tigers. According to the world, there are like ten things wrong with that sentence. I love it.
My point is, I guess: Socially-speaking, there are a lot of similarities between being single and being infertile.
For instance, either way, if you attend a friend's formal bash, you screw up the seating plan. If it's a close friend's party, they probably know your situation and don't want to offend you by putting you at a table with a family or couples who love to talk about their kids, so in all of their efforts to be sensitive to your situation they stick you at the infertile table.
It's not really the "infertile" table as much as it's the "leftovers" table. When you turn your guest list upside down and shake it and everybody falls into place, we're the mess "left over" on the floor.
Once my husband and I were put at a table between my friend's two male bosses whom she felt obligated to invite, and the wedding planner and photographer. I guess we were the third couple. I was so P.O.'d, I spent the whole night debating whether to tell the bosses that my friend had doctored her resume to get the job or the wedding planner that she felt she'd been ripped off and wasn't planning to pay her another dime.
Listen, I gotta go. I just got both my flu shot and my pupils dilated. So I'm basically typing blind with one hand. Feel free to pity me. Please don't count the typos. That would be cruel to kick me when I'm down.
I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.