When The Moments You Chase Keep Outrunning You
About a year ago, I wrote something on how you measure a year, like in the Rent song.
What I was getting at in that post — probably poorly — is that a lot of people associate a year with 2–3 specific memories, i.e. “I met this person,” or “I had a kid,” or “I switched to this job.” When you get pretty deep into infertility bullshit, where I’ve been for 3–4 years now, you measure a lot of years by, “Well, did we have a kid?” The answer typically comes back no. It’s harder at the end of the year, i.e. the holidays, because most people really only associate the holidays with kids.
Well, here I am still. No kid, no pregnancy, life goes on. I've got a new job lined up. (Nice.) I think I have a clearer picture of who my friends are and who couldn’t care less that I exist in the universe. I’m back on LinkedIn, which is … something we celebrate? I’m not sure on that last one.
Life is OK. It’s not great. It’s not awful. It’s OK. But … yea, there’s a big gap in the infertility side, for sure.
Am I resentful that my sperm is slow and plodding? Probably a little bit. On my worst days, probably a lot bit. I think of it sometimes less as “resentment” and more about not understanding how the broader universe fits together. We frame up fertility and “legacy” and “extension of the blood line” as blessings, and in a way they are — and that’s comfortable language for people to use, sure — but really they’re just biological things.
I used to be in a church group with this one kid. For a while, we were friends. It went downhill pretty fast eventually, probably because he and his wife and me and my wife were the last two couples without kids, then they got pregnant about a month after their official post-COVID wedding and we didn’t. That sadly colored a lot of shit about our dynamic. It shouldn’t have, but it did. That’s on all four people involved, honestly.
Anyway, this kid since we stopped regularly talking has been a semi-consistent prick to me if I see him in public. I won’t list the low-lights, but they’re not awesome.
So sometimes I wonder: why did he get “the thing” and I can’t? Is he a better person? More blessed? Does he “deserve” it more?
Ultimately I just think it’s biology. Dude comes off consistently like a prick. I don’t think he’s “blessed.” I think his sperm is just faster and has more volume. Go him.
I think what I’ve thought over the last few years is that I’m chasing two moments:
I’ll potentially get neither of these experiences, which kinda makes it feel like I’m missing some central tenets of the masculine moment. I try not to get too worked up about that.
What can be sad to me is that over the years, I’ve asked about 120 guys to tell me about their experience “in the room,” and most guys either make a joke about C-Section vaginas or say something completely generic, when theoretically that would be a major and seminal moment in their existence. Maybe it’s just because a lot of guys can’t discuss much of relevance.
I dunno. I wouldn’t call myself “resentful,” although in moments I am — absolutely. I’ve also been called “angry” and “sad” and “crazy.” I guess all of those are true in their own pockets.
I’m really just chasing two moments in my life. Maybe someday I shall get there.