Updates below.

Damn, I think I need to form a band just so I can use that name. I’d better get right on it teaching Maya guitar. Or maybe she could be the drummer.

Via Feministe, this suggestion made me shake my head and laugh (something I do more every day, it would seem):

Is there a way to radically decrease abortions without asking the government to do it? Adoption is often suggested here and that is a good alternative but I think there is another as well.

Marriage. I am not talking just about a return to the “shotgun marriage”; rather, I think an offer of marriage from a man who is not the father but will assume all the traditional responsibilities of fatherhood would be accepted by many unmarried pregnant women. The motif of a man proposing marriage to a woman pregnant with another man’s child is a common one on soap operas that are a fairly good gauge of female fantasy. These stories represent the truth that many pregnant women don’t really want to abort, and would not, if marriage and commitment were offered to them.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Where should I even begin? The crowd at Feministe, no surprise, focused on what I, as a pro-choice woman, find to me a little closer to reality — my reality anyway — that many women simply have no. desire. whatsoever. to marry purely for the sake of being married, pregnancy or no. There’s lots of good rifting on the “soap opera” motiff (best example here), and on the simple reality that many of us wouldn’t come anywhere near the sort of man who’d volunteer for this “program.”

But here’s where my head started to lift off my shoulders and rapidly spin around. I read the comments on the actual article. Here’s a summary of the basic points:

• Waaahhhh. This means the good guys (trans: pro-life) would be taken by the nasty, icky sluts!
• Icky slutty single pregnant women would use this to force a non-bio-father into paying child support. Those manipulative bitches! After they trap him, they’ll dump him, sue for support, and go back to fucking lowlifes.
• Why can’t women take responsibility for their own lives (instead of taking on the good-boy-groom-for-life)? What happened to “hear me roar”?
• (this one’s verbatim) Uh… no. I’m not going to obligate myself to raise some other schmuck’s kid, with a flaky woman whose only accomplishment in life is to get knocked up.
• (verbatim again, because it’s just so…*ralph*)No man, good or bad is going to take burned-out trash and her bastard offspring without big compensation.
• What you fail to mention is that the area of sexual and reproductive rights has always been totally dominated by women. At best men have been treated as little more than helpful bystanders. (…) If you want to have a lower number of abortion then either give back 50 % of all sexual and reproductive power to men or have it forcefully taken from you by the development of the artificial womb. (Ed: shudder)
• Women would use up the generous donors and not appreciate it at all. Women, in general (at least the kind who get knocked up) are selfish and always make bad decisions.

I now see that this article takes pings, so I’m going to give the URL rather than linking:
http://mensnewsdaily.com/2006/06/29/grooms-for-life/

I’ve already seen what happens when this sort of people come to my site. Presumptuous judgement! Woo-hoo! Let’s have a party and tell Allison what a nasty, slutty, selfish whore she is!

SIGH. I’m remembering now why I shy away from dating conservatives. Besides simply disagreeing with them politically, why in the world would I want to come anywhere near someone who would make so many assumptioins about who I am and what my life is all about?

Sheesh. When I started writing, I planned to make light and joke about this ridiculous idea, but now I’m just pissed.

~~~~~

Updates:

The inline URL *still* created a ping, so I might as well give you guys — all two of you — a direct link. I can only pray there aren’t many new MND readers of this article since it’s not from today.

Kyso has posted commentary at punkassblog here about what great satire this would make…if only the auther weren’t serious. Also see this, about the idea that men somehow have no say in reproductive issues.

punkass marc (also at punkassblog, imagine that) wrote a brilliant demonstration of what a utopia this would create in real life. It’s hillarious, but the ungrateful-whore-in-question is called Allison, nicknamed Alli. I’m not sure if I should giggle or throw up?

Now that’s more like it — reply from a different contact.
Now *this* is how to tell someone why you decided to send them an email:

Thanks for the reply. I was really impressed by your profile. My masterpiece is someone such as yourself who has beauty as well as an intellectual side. Physical attraction is only part of the equation. I need mental attraction as well. Meaningful conversations about life, love, and interesting topics are what I want. That is why I wrote you. Your bio was more in depth than most and you are quite beautiful too. Also, I have a six year old son and I saw that you have a young daughter. That is important also to meet someone who understands the responsibilities of being a good parent. I would love to know more about you as well. You should know my match account expires at the end of today. You can respond to my personal account at (email address).

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he threw the word “beautiful” in there. I admit it, I like ego snacks. Another bonus for me is that he sees my daughter as a benefit, not something to put up with. Many times, I’ve received emails from people who “make an exception” to their “no kids” rule for me. Even though I want to believe their intentions are sincere, I find myself mama-lion-defensive of my girl — I never, ever want to be involved with anyone who sees her as something to merely tolerate. She’s worth celebrating, damn it. Yeah, I think I’ll reply to this one.

~~~~~

Coffee dates.
On the single parent note, I have decided that coffee dates are just not something worthwhile for me. In another time, I would have gladly (and spontaneously) hopped in the car and headed to a local barrista to meet up with a new prospect. It’s just not that simple now. Between being a full-time single mom and living about 10 miles north of town, I have to go through a lot of work in order to make space for what typically becomes a 5-minute size-me-up session. No thanks. If I’m arranging babysitting, I’m at least going to take *myself* out for a nice dinner. This isn’t about trolling for meals; I’d be just as happy going a hike or doing something that I otherwise would do. It’s about the use of my time.

Commenters, what do you think? Is this too narcissistic or self-absorbed for me to think this way? Who knows, maybe the guy I’m about to turn down (for said coffee date) just doesn’t interest me enough, and I’d find a way to meet someone who fascinated me.

~~~~~

Sex and Dating
Sarah, a frequent commenter over at Hugo’s place, has her new blog up and running. She recently wrote a letter to Focus on the Family’s Brio Magazine about sexual activity before marriage and posted both her letter and a reply from an employee at FotF that didn’t *quite* address her questions.

I’m honestly not too concerned about the premarital sex aspect from a religion standpoint. If you’ve read enough of these pages, you might get the idea that I’m not particularly conventional where religion is concerned. That said, from my past experience, I do agree that sex is something best left to a deep, monogamous, and possibly committed relationship. Sex-as-Sport is a fun idea, and I dabbled in it more than a little during my mid-to-late twenties. Again and again, though, I found that it left me feeling unfulfilled, lonely, and empty. In my attempts to “be a guy” (stereotypical guy, in a love-em-and-leave-em way), I began to lose bits of myself and refill the void with false confidence that needed constant refilling with sexual approval from outside. Oh, add to that, I hurt a few guys who were NOT typical guys in the process, but that’s a whole ‘nother post about how gender stereotypes hurt guys too.

Ironically, I’d gotten past this at the point when I conceived my daughter — but while I was no longer a predator and no longer treated sex lightly, my earlier experiences left me less prepared to indignantly yell NO when my boundaries were pushed.

Back to sex. As I start to seriously consider dating again, I’m now wondering what role physical contact will have for me. I say “will,” because frankly, at this point, I’ve been on the sexual equivalent of the top pantry shelf (hiding behind the extra bags of flour) for more than two years. It’s all kind of academic to me, and I’m starting to think that I’ve shut that side of myself down. What would it take to rekindle a nice blaze without burning down the entire forest? To get more corny with it, I’m in a drought, and I’d hate for someone’s haphazzardly thrown cigarette butt to start an out-of-control wildfire on now-protected land.

Okay, that was stretching it.

Anyway, this is something I’m considering, and I have no answers. Yet. But I do have an attractive, intelligent, creative man who wants to at least say hello. That’s a start, right?

“I’m glad I didn’t have a girl. She wouldn’t get to leave the house until she’s 30!”

The Happy Feminist posted about this kind of comment, and she boils it down (mostly, anyway) to a father’s perception of a daughter as a sexual being — in this case, one that should be preserved and protected from *gasp* anything physical. (My words, not hers…read the full post for her perspective.)

The comments on this are fascinating, and I’m impressed with the caliber of folks having a discussion without getting nasty toward each other. Buried down in the comments, the conversation turns to date rape, and how gender roles/attitudes may give boys the wrong idea about pushing for sex. One commenter suggests being direct about it:

How about just talking with your sons about rape. “Son, real sex is when two people want to be physical with each other. If one of the people doesn’t *want* to, then it’s not real sex and it’s probably rape. If she consents, but she doesn’t *want* it, she’s just okay with letting it happen it to her, that’s not what sex is supposed to be about either. It’s supposed to be about mutual desire.”

(emphasis added)

You know, I’ve come to terms with what happened nearly 2-1/2 years ago…yet I haven’t. Long ago, my counselor explained to me (after a lengthy discussion) that while what I experienced wasn’t *technically* rape, it emotionally could take the same toll. I’ve struggled with wanting to believe that, but then often still feeling like it was All. My. Fault.

Without a doubt, I could have made better choices that night. Does that mean that the guy is vindicated? No, it doesn’t. I know this intellectually, but there’s still a big part of me that heaved a sigh of relief to see someone else write those words in bold above.

Just thinking…

Added:
Another comment paints a pretty clear picture of how grey this subject can be. This sounds so familiar to me…SO familiar.

A very personal comment on “pressuring”: I was dating a guy in college who came to visit me over the summer at my parents. He *really* wanted to have sex after having made the drive to visit. (My parents are very anti-premarital sex and were adamant that such things not happen in their house.) We were watching a movie after everyone else had gone to bed and he suggested sex. I said no because I wasn’t really interested, I was extremely aware of how opposed my parents were, and the room where we were watching TV isn’t exactly private. He persisted. I said no again. He’d leave the topic alone for fifteen minutes, then start rubbing and kissing my neck. I gave up trying to pull away and this went on. After TWO HOURS of this “please, I really want to,” “no, I’m not comfortable” rountine, I’d had enough and gave in because I was sick of fighting about it, it would last five minutes, and then I’d get left alone for the weekend.

Did I say yes? Yep. Did I really want to have sex? No. I wouldn’t call it criminal or sexual assault, but I’m typing this and still angry. Angry because I didn’t stand up for myself and angry at him for thinking this was an acceptable way to behave. That’s what’s wrong with pressuring. I don’t need a legalistic definition to tell you how wrong that night was.

And I guarantee you, there are thousands of women like me, who’ve said yes because they were sick of talking about why not.

(raising my hand) I didn’t even ever say yes…but I did finally stop saying no.

The comments thread continues in this vein — about whose responsibility it is to stop rape, and whether it’s okay or not for a guy (sometimes a girl, but usually a guy) to pressure a girl into sex. One commenter made the argument that it’s up to the female to say no, and that it’s inate for the male to push for sex. I mean really, heaven forbid that a guy should tame his base urges, right? BLECH.

The blog owner made an argument that there’s a difference between pressure and seduction. I especially appreciated this line:

Young men should be brought up not to think in terms of “what works” but to think in terms of sex as something that should be always be a totally consensual and mutually rewarding act.”

Amen, sister.

From Hugo:

…we must remember that to follow Jesus is to match our language and our lives.

His post happens to be about the deceptive tactics of some “crisis pregnancy centers,” but the idea applies across the board.

On topic, this is exactly why I chose to keep the pregnancy that resulted in my little girl. I’ve felt some of that same ambivalence about abortion, but have never quite put it so clearly as Hugo did with this post.

From Dooce:

Sometimes Jon and I talk about what life was like before we had a baby, before the dog, before the ongoing chaos of those responsibilities. And I remember during those first months of Leta’s life when I had a hard time going ten minutes without giving in to a nervous breakdown how I sometimes cursed the fact that we had gone and ruined our lives. Last night when confronted with that hollow silence, the silence of the way things used to be, all I could think was, thank God we had a baby and ruined our lives.

Thank god I “ruined” my life, indeed. Nothing better has ever happened to me.

On All Things Considered today:

Think Partnered Parenting Is Hard? Try Going Solo

by Lori Gottlieb

All Things Considered, March 29, 2006 · Commentator Lori Gottlieb is a single mother. Most of her friends who are moms are married. And that’s where the trouble begins. Gottlieb is tired of hearing them whine about how awful their husbands are.

I can completely relate. As much as I love my online group (all our kids were due the same month), I do remember that the Fall of 2004 was filled with complaints. I definitely got a bird’s-eye view of how difficult it must be to become new parents together…not only are you adjusting to a new role, you’re also completely redefining your relationship with your partner.

Where Gottlieb gripes about how these women should feel lucky — that’s where she gripes instead of complaining about her “dh” — I found that *I* felt lucky in those early days. Yes, I was tired. Exhausted, actually…and there were nights that I’d sit in bed crying after Maya had (yet again) spit up everything she’d just eaten all over the bed. But, I’d get up and re-make the bed, and move on.

Not having someone else to pin my woes on honestly made parenting simpler for me. If there was a problem, it came back to me…no blame game required. Just thinking…

From Operating Instructions:

Larry called me one night at the end of my pregnancy when I was just desvastated by the thought of the hole in Sam’s life bacuase he wouldn’t have a dad, how much that was probably going to hurt and how I wasn’t going to be able to do much about it. He said that I was just an opening for Sam to come into the world, that I wasn’t supposed to be a drug for him. I was just supposed to be his mother. Sam was meant to be born into the world exactly the way it is, into these exact circumstances, even if that meant not having a dad or an ozone layer, even if it included pets who would die and acne and seventh-grade dances and AIDS. He simply wasn’t meant to be born in the paradise behind the mountains.

I’ve given the basics of the story of Maya’s biological father, but haven’t yet explored much (here, anyway) my thoughts on the reality that she’s growing up without a dad in her life. In many ways, after I’ve gotten past all the guilt of not providing Maya with a daddy, I realize that she has the opportunity for a more healthy emotional life than many kids *with* fathers have…and that it’s okay.

When I purchased Operating Instructions, I also picked up a copy of Boundaries and Relationships. It’s still not the for-the-masses type book that I’d like to see out there, but so far, it’s doing a decent job of explaining healthy personal boundaries sans religion. (Religion is NOT a prerequisite for emotional health and moral behavior!) I’m starting to slowly get a feel for what some of my remaining issues may be, and as I do, I feel sad that I’ve wasted so much time on them.

But then I look at Maya, and I realize that in her, there’s the chance to get it right…or mostly right, at least. That I can help her to find herself, not “the person mommy wants her to be.” That she might grow up with fewer “issues” than the average bear, and become a stronger woman at 14 than I am at 34. When I see that possibility, I realize that all of my baggage (unpacking it anyway) has been completely worthwhile.

If you care to see what we’re looking like these days, I just got a ton of photos back from the photographer.

Slideshow here.

Oh, and my wtfwjd? sticker arrived! Now, am I *really* going to put it on my car? Hmmmm…

Today I learned something. If you enter an email address along with your comments for a blog that uses Haloscan, your email address is displayed. Most comment systems I’ve seen ask you to enter your email, but it’s only visible to the site owner. I’d neglected to notice that Haloscan differs.

I learned this because I got quite the interesting email — directly to my account — today from someone who visited here from another site where I’d commented. Considering that this email’s remarks directly addressed a specific post, who knows why this person didn’t just leave a comment…

Stripping out any identifying info, here it is:

From: (woman’s name)
Date: Jul 17, 2005 6:43 PM
Subject: Curious
To: (me)

I found your blog from the (site) comments. I wonder if there were reasons besides his small penis that you decided not to try to establish a relationship with your daughter’s father. Do you reckon the penis size was a deal breaker? What will you tell your daughter about her father? (God, please! don’t tell her the real reason.)

I wonder because I was a bit shocked the first time I saw my husband’s penis which is kind of small–at least by what I’d seen before and magazine pictures. But it turned out he was a great lover, the best sex I ever had is with my husband despite his size.

I wonder too what difficulty your daughter might have with only you as a parent. Girls especially need men around for establishing good relationship with other men.

Maybe when she grows up she will try to find her biological father like some adopted children do. Would you help her do that if she showed interest and desire to do so?

Maybe this guy was a creep and it was not just his penis size. I was just wondering.

Best Wishes
(first name)

Note that of the LONG post about my daughter’s bio dad, the comment about his, um…size…was one sentence. And written with humor. Running with the assumption that this woman really is who she says, I’m pleased for her that she enjoys her husband. Really, I am. But…

A few possibilities:

1. This really is a woman who really is married to a talented, but underendowed man. She really is genuinely concerned about my daughter’s well-being.
2. This really is a woman who’s married to the underendowed man, but she subconsciously hates it, so is hyper-sensitive to any penis-size comment.
3. This is a troll. Then again, if it were, I’d almost expect a troll to WANT to post a comment here, just to stir up some excitement. To this thought, the yahoo profile shows as “updated 7/16/2005, but contains no information whatsoever — it’s clearly a newly created email address.
4. This is an underendowed man, and he’s standing up for his brothers.

I could go on. Maybe I will later, but for now, I’m too busy snickering at the mental image of my sitting with a six-year-old daughter on my knee, gently explaining to her any of the following:

“Darling, you must understand. I was so relieved when the ultrasound showed that you were a girl, so you wouldn’t inherit your father’s…affliction.”

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry that you don’t know your father, but he has a small penis, so is an evil person. I couldn’t expose you to that.”

My reply to her question:

Not that it’s really any of your concern — but my issue with the biological donor to my daughter’s DNA had more to do with his inability/unwillingness to listen to the word “no.” By the time I learned I was pregnant, I had no way to contact him; he was someone I *met* on NYE, not a date. Surely, in that context, you can understand why I was upset about the not-listening-to-no part.

For the record? He was a great kisser. I mean, it got as far as it did for a reason. Even though I didn’t want/plan to sleep with the guy, I didn’t shut him down as harshly or clearly as I should have because…well…I wanted to keep *kissing* him.

Rereading her letter and my response, I realize that I neglected to answer one question. Of course, I’d help my daughter to find her biological father. Over the past several months, I’ve entertained the idea of doing some detective work myself, simply so I’ll have something for her to start with when/if that day arrives.

I fully realize that by posting personal details on a blog, that I open myself up to others’ opinions. Can’t they just form opinions based on what’s written, though, instead of on their own assumptions? I honestly don’t mind being judged — if that judgement is based on fact. All too often, though, it’s not.

The author’s comments about my daughter’s emotional well-being are a whole other topic for some other day.

My daughter hit nine months today, so we’ve been busy doing the doctor thing, and my thoughts have more been on her instead of the topics that fit here. Good lord, she is so freakin’ tiny!

While at the doctor’s office, my pediatrician noticed a “hip click” on Maya’s left side. We’re being referred to an orthapedist for further checking, because this can be indicative of hip dysplasia. Being the good (or is that neurotic?) mom that I am, I researched infant hip dysplasia as soon as I got home. YIKES.

I pray that this is really nothing, and thank god that I’m shelling out the large payments monthly for a good health insurance plan. Even if I’m spending more monthly than I might have out of pocket…when things like this arise, there’s no question about whether to go to the specialist. We just go.