I have been dealing pretty well with approaching menopause. I don’t mind that I won’t be menstruating anymore. And I have been happy about my approaching infertility. I have two grown sons and at 51 years old am not really interested in having more children, at least I wasn’t. Today I cried because I am not going to have my lover’s child. He was talking on the phone with another woman, a friend, about having children with her – more a game than anything else at this point, and he and I were making love at the same time. And it hurt. I felt angry too that he didn’t have the sensitivity to realize that the topic would be painful to me since we had discussed that I wished I could have his child. It isn’t rational but the feelings are still there. So I got up and went downstairs to the bathroom. I began to cry but quietly because I thought he might hear me. The bathroom is under the bedroom, I believe. I couldn’t really believe that this was so emotional for me but the feelings just rose up. Once I started crying and realized how much I was hurting the anger went away. After awhile I decided to read my email, read an online journal, something to take my mind off it. And I calmed down. Then I needed to be near him. I was unsettled and in need of comfort. It didn’t matter that he had caused this with his conversation. I still needed to be with him to feel right again.
I went in and he held out his arm for me to cuddle against him so I laid with my back to him and everything started to come up again. He was still on the phone then but got off in a moment. I moved away, blew my nose and lay back down away from him. But he said my name and told me to look at him, and I couldn’t refuse him. He wanted to know what was wrong. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it and then really began to cry all over again. He held me and made soothing noises. I don’t like to cry and don’t do it easily and very rarely do I cry hard, letting it go. But my heart ached and I had no way to stop it but to cry. I felt stupid about it. I am not unhappy about my age or time of life and I am married to someone else. He has his own primary partner as well. But if I could have his child I would do it.
From time to time through the years I have had fantasies and occasional dreams about having another baby but have never really had strong feelings about it. Now I ache that I can’t have another one, that I am too old for it. It doesn’t matter as far as those feelings go that Tom would not like it, that he is not interested in paying for, raising, and having his life limited by another man’s child. He is not interested in having one that was his either though with a vasectomy that isn’t likely. It doesn’t matter that my lover really doesn’t want a child with me either – he does want one with his primary partner and I truly hope that it works out for him. I know that it is very dear to his heart. But I still want his baby. And it hurts that I can’t. (Ok, maybe I could, if we really tried since I haven’t stopped menstruating yet but it is still very unlikely and we would have to make a concerted effort to have it happen, I think. And it isn’t rational and we won’t do it.)
He told me it wasn’t stupid. I said it was. He said it wasn’t and elaborated. It touches him that I have these feelings, that I love him so much and want a product of that love to grow inside me, a part of him. This has left me feeling more vulnerable than I have for some time. It is odd though. I felt incredibly vulnerable and shy with him at first as he affected me so strongly. I had difficulty looking into his eyes because I felt that I could fall into them but also that he could look right into me, see me in a way that others do not. I felt my defenses crumble and that is scary. But I got used to it and the sense of being vulnerable decreased. I could look into his eyes at a restaurant and not start blushing and have to look away in shyness, well not often. I had more control over those feelings or at least I wasn’t concerned about it. And suddenly I feel as vulnerable with him as I did in the beginning, shy, not exactly frightened but unsettled by the level of emotion he engenders within me. He looks at me and I feel the rush of blood to my loins. My clit swells and tingles. And I look away from him feeling a blush start. And he knows.
There is an aspect of this that is like a fantasy or a romance novel for me. The tall strong man with flowing locks and beard, beautiful eyes that look right through you, knowing your feelings better than you do, and taking what he wants and knows you want as well. Definitely a romance novel. And the affect he has on me is much like that as well. I think Jack would tell me that I am projecting onto my lover my own animus or some such thing. And perhaps it is so, I don’t know. There certainly is an element of demon lover in my obsession with him, in my physical response to him. Even now thinking about him I am wet. He takes me into my darker fantasies and brings them to light without my ever having discussed them with him. He exposes parts of myself that I am not comfortable with anyone else knowing about, let alone seeing me act on them. And I yield to him, following where he leads even when uncertain. Once when I heard myself saying “oh god, oh god” during sex the thought went through my head that he was my god. More than just an embodiment of the Horned One, who is one of my gods and can be seen in some form in all men, I am devoted to him in this man. I serve him, think about him almost all the time, try to manifest his goals, his desires. And yet I don’t negate myself in this. I am aware of my own desires, my needs, my wants. It is just that now he is the center that I circle around.
Reading this it sounds pretty extreme, pretty scary. But living it, it feels right.
Copyright © 2001, 2002 Kyril Oakwind