Steph Not Stephanie

I was having a pretty good day. Good things happened at work, I was carded while buying wine (yes you fucking can ask to see my ID), and I spent some time doing my kitchen dance party thing while making a veggie mac and cheese from scratch for Binary and myself. I asked him to spend the night since I’m heading to my hometown for Thanksgiving and figured it was our last chance to hang out until next week.

But.

(You knew there was a but.)

Into our third episode of The Walking Dead:

‘Can I be awkward for a minute? I was reading something on your blog …’

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

I took a big swig of wine, and then promptly forgot how to swallow (shut up, Sachin) as the past three years’ chronic overshares flashed before my eyes. My flaws, both perceived and those confirmed by others, buzzed around my ears like so many flies. My blogs about exes, things I said or did or didn’t like or liked (or you know, my general unloveableness) all presented themselves as totally viable options for the convo that was about to happen. You’d be amazed how much self-doubt you can cram into a 15 second pause.

‘I clicked on some links and read some old articles,’ he said. ‘I like that you’re calling them articles,’ I said, trying to keep it light because I’m breezy! 

‘I read you don’t want to procreate.’

WAIT WUT? THIS IS THE NAIL IN THE FUCKING COFFIN. WUT? I NEED MORE WINE. WUT?

Except I somehow maintained my composure and acted like an adult. An adult who drinks. Because I get it. I’ve never been shy about my stance on kids. They’re great, I love them, they’re just not for me. And I’ve never wanted to take away anyone’s chance to be a dad. But can I just take a minute to be pissed sad I don’t fucking know what that here’s a guy who’s nerdy in all the right ways and sends me ridiculously cute cat/dinosaur jokes and things seem to be going so well and then my fucking uterus being closed for business is the thing that fucks it up? Come. Fucking. On.

So I’m taking tonight to be a bit sad. I have my wine, of course, and my support system, and more wine. And I know I’ll be okay. I put myself out there, and I’m proud of that. I cried a little bit, and I’m proud of that too (because the support system says it makes me not a sociopath). But lost opportunities and what-could-have-beens aside, I know myself well enough to know my mind’s not changing. And I’m glad Binary knew himself well enough to speak up when he did. Even if it was awkward. Even if it hurts. Even if it sucks. Because it’s worth it. And there’s always wine.