The No Huddle Has Its Place

**Uh oh, looks like your boy has his first guest post! The delightful and (on rare occasions) dignified Star has decided to grace my abode with another perspective on my Running The Two-Minute Drill post. Not only is this my first guest post, but if I’m not mistaken, it’s also the first time Star has written a blog post! Peer pressure is a bish. Anyway, read it, take it home, chew it, savor its nourishment, and leave your thoughts. Let’s discuss.**

OK, so TDA dropped some serious peacemaking, thoughtful, compassionate knowledge yesterday and I bow down to his epic post.  While it was so true…there’s more to this story.  Lemme let you in on a little of my truth. 

Some background, since to most of you I’m a stranger bish.  I’m 31, I’m single, I was born and raised in the Midwest, and my life’s goal is to be a great wife and mother.  Was I conditioned to want this?  Am I just following the not so subtle prodding of our patriarchal  society? Am I simply a robot marching to the ever louder tick tock of my biological clock?  Throwing up a hail mary as the last seconds of the game clock expire?

No.
I’m human.
I’m woman.
I’m sister.
I’m daughter.
I’m Star.

And my wants, my needs, my thoughts, my goals, my desires are as natural, personal and unique as yours are to be an astrophysicist or a partner at your firm or President of the United States.  I’m not ashamed of wanting a life partner, of wanting a family.  And yes, as with most of our wants, I want it is as soon as possible.

Realize, I’m no spring chicken, TDA’s post applied perfectly and completely to me at 26 and I woulda been in the comments saying “yeah, what’re these chicks freaking out for?  I’ve got plenty of time!”  Because at 26, I felt like by THIRTY surely I’d be someone’s wife and soon to be mother…however, with time comes knowledge, lessons learned that some may or may not be aware of:

~ The biological clock is no joke.  TDA, you mentioned a desire to understand it, but I would never wish that on you.  This need, this hole, this yearning to create and nurture and what’s worse, to be shamed for feeling it.  To be mocked and labeled for it.  Everyone’s heard of it, we all joke about it (uh, check the post photo!), but the reason a woman’s sexual peek is in her 30’s?  The ovaries have taken over.  They beat me bloody about 3 years ago, tied me to a chair,and have been running things ever since.  Any time I see a man interacting with child, a gentleman says something intelligent, some sexy mofo passes my way, or heaven forbid I meet a nice guy that shares common interests-the love below stages a coup and redirects all blood flow.

~ With age, women lose value.  It’s harsh, it sucks.  But it’s a societal fact.  Argue all you want.  We’re considered less beautiful: (compound all of this if we’ve already had children) our breasts start to sag, our bodies change, our hips widen, which makes our ass drop, lots of women gets new veins coming to the surface, hair removal becomes a whole new ball game, it’s harder and harder to stay in shape…

~ The Baby Making Factor:  The reality is, having children over the age of 35 is not recommended for women.  All sorts of risks multiply exponentially at that magic number.   Yeah people do it every day, but I want what’s best for my kids, not just what they can hopefully survive.

~ Jealousy: alright let me go ahead and admit it.  I’m jealous.  Jealous that men get to “have fun” all they want, seemingly without repercussion.  That it appears that men put significantly less effort into finding a stable relationship yet seem to come out on top regardless.  That as they age, their fertility only improves, instead of going down like a toothless hooker on the day rent’s due.  That they are judged on more than simply their hip to waist ratio and beauty.  That when you decide to find a wife, odds are the woman you are dating will be thrilled to marry you, not play you off like a thirsty, husband seeking psycho.  Yeah, I’m lookin’ a lot like Lot’s wife about now.

It’s like men are fishing in a stock pond.  Filled with handfed fish.  You drop your hook in, you get a bite, you like it or you don’t.  But even if you don’t, you throw your hook back in and another one is on the line.  You keep fishing.  No biggie.

But it feels like we’re fishing in puddles.  Where the bites are few and far between.  When we do get a bite it’s a snake or a boot.  Maybe some algae to nourish us for a bit.  But we want protein, substance.  And you can’t seem to understand why we’re so hungry.  But we’re fishing in different ponds.  You can say “be easy, relax, he’ll come” but when?  My pond’s not yielding the same results as yours.  I don’t have your same confidence.  And I’m hungry.

Here’s the thing, I’m happy.  I am.  But I want more.  I’m not done.  I want a companion.  A life partner, someone to build with.  I may sound like the gun wielding psycho above but I’m not.  I just haven’t accomplished my goals yet.  There’s someone missing.  And little someones that I dream about.  That I study about already, before they’re even a possibility.  I’m telling you what some people may not be willing to (and of course some women genuinely disagree with my every point-many young ones should).  But this is my post.  TDA was so kind as to give me a platform and this is how I feel.

I want a man, not in two years.  Tomorrow.  Any man? Of course not, but that desire is there none the less, even if I don’t know his name yet…

In the end, I hope TDA is right.  That I’ve read the clock wrong, that I’ve got another quarter to play, or an overtime, some favorable flag, something…

When that two minute warning approaches, you better have some kinda game plan.  The no-huddle offense is a necessary evil sometimes.