Childless

“Everything is a blessing and curse.” The mother said. “It’s what you make of it.”

I had told her of my marriage and desire for children and now old I felt empty and betrayed.

“Feeling empty is a normal part of aging. We give our all till we areall used up. Feeling betrayed is altogether different,” she said.

He remembered her singing the song ‘she’s a young girl and she’ll never leave her mother.”  His name was Billy and the girls had teased him when young.  “I don’t want a child,” she said, after the marriage, “It would hurt my figure.”  She was vain but it really was an excuse.  She was a physical coward and caring of others but totally terrified at the prospect of her own illness and mortality.  He felt betrayed. He’d married for children. Marriage was an institution for family. He’d worked three jobs and supported her as a princess.  

“You know who has power because they are the one’s you cannot criticize’, his older European friend liked to say.

“You can’t criticize girls, women without children, but you can criticize mothers. God knows, to my shame,I criticized my own.”

“Or blacks today,” she added.  “Or Jews, or aboriginals. Or Gays.  Muslims for sure. Or poor people.  “Anyone with a ‘card’, the ‘get out of jail free’  card. Or ‘it’s not my fault. It’s somebody else’s fault. And you’re a hater, if you blame me. “ She laughed as she mimicked the whine of the unaccountable.  “They are special and I don’t, mean wear a helmet special, but special in society.  The courts and real power back them, not you.”

“Single women, childless women,” they have that card.” I said.

“Yes, but only when they’re young.”  She added. “Older they are pitied.  Older the mothers who have had a good life, chosen good men and raised their children well, with respect and values. They are successful and know the happiness within that good works bring. They know they could have remained single, refused to have children, blamed men for everything, remained little girl children and refused to grow up. But they’ve made the sacrifices.  They’ve done the hard work.  They don’t envy the false bravado and loneliness of their sisters.  There’s nothing like being a good mother and they know it.”

“I believe the fathers do too.  The grandfather’s are especially happy as great Cheshire cats who know the sacrifices they made and older,  reap the reward.”he laughed .

It was evening and the light was falling.  Outside men were starting fires in fire pits. There was a loon on the lack .  It could have as easily been an outdoor cafe by a busy city street. Their conversations occurred everywhere.  Men and women, older, reflecting.

“No praise, no blame, no regrets.” I said. “It was the motto of the eastern philosopher.  I lived by it when I was younger but I was blamed. I received no praise for my decades of service. I kept these women in wealth.  Other’s envied me because they worked but I worked two to three times as hard bringing  home two thirds of the money and doing most of the work of building and maintenance.  I was husband and wife. She chatted with her mother and talked with her girlfriends and watched tv.  She looked pretty. She did her job. No different from me but she got all the praise at work whereas I didn’t. We had to be so much better to be acknowledged whereas she was pretty and bright.   At first she certainly engaged in sex before the marriage. After was a different story.  You know what they say about wedding cake.” I said. 

“Yes, the greatest sexual turn off to a woman. “ she said. “Not traditional women. Marriage was when the party began.  Traditional women loved sex and loved children and loved marriage. Not these boy girls today.  They hate mothers.  They imitate men..” She looked away musing for a moment.

“ You were a catch.  Good looking. Hard working. Masculine. Successful. Good family.  Hot. The women competed for you.  Getting you they won. They were the party girls. Consumers. They put you in the box beside the doll house and proceeded to get the other parts, the right house, the new car, the nice vacation and cool friends.  Barbie dolls.  You were Ken.  Barbie had a cool job but Ken did all the real work.  It was even better if he had a trust fund and Daddy had done the work.  Barbie never had children. Not when I was young. Just lots of stuff.  The ultimate consumer girl.” She laughed. With one hand she pushed back her hair.  She was beautiful as an older woman but younger she would have been stunning. He loved her as a friend. Her honesty and frankness.

“The sex stopped.’ I said. “Not quite stopped but scarcity set in.  A month or more would pass. The more I gave her, the less we had.  Houses, cars, status, parties.   It had been fun.  All the  romantic loving, sentimental sex, the crazy dress up, role playing sex, every possible combination and perturbation that two people could do. We did them all. Every night at first. Then with marriage it stopped.  Missionary position and more and more rejection.  She rolled over.  She said she was tired.  She turned her back to me and I assure you that wasn’t an invitation with her.   We weren’t into others. But then we were married and she’d roll over or not really think of it.  I did everything to ensure she had orgasms.  I’m more a lesbian for the service I gave but no returns.  She just found the less she did, the more I did and the years went by with her taking. There was no reciprocity. And one day. I gave up.” I choked at my own failure. 

“  I was ashamed to talk about it. I saw a psychiatrist. I was the envy of all. But at home I lived with the shrew.  She was only interested in her mother  and I was cuckolded. I was faithful till nearly the end but she’d not been. She gave her time and interest to other men.  She flirted with the husbands of her friends.  I flirted drunk but she just flirted specifically.  It was embarrassing. Staying with my friends and her making out with the man.  The woman looking at me and always there was this unspoken expectation I should, as the man ‘do something about my wife.’

She laughed, “Isn’t that the truth.  We’re supposed to do something about our children and our spouses but lawyers and social workers live in every house and lie under the beds listening ready to take sides. Then it’s the human rights brigades and judges, all taking the place of the much judged minister and church lady of yore. Same nightmare with no space for love or privacy, just new names. “ she laughed.

“I thought how fortunate a community was to have an honor killing once a year.  It was like the public hanging of the thief.  A deterrent. Now there is none. It’’s civilized but I’d get these looks and wonder’ what am I supposed to do’.  She hit me, you know.  She’d also say “touch me and I’ll bang my head against the wall and say you did it. You touch me and I’ll make so many bruises they will put you away for life. I’ll cut myself up if you ever question what I do again. “  She was evil then. I saw the rage.  She did’t want to sleep with the single men but she wanted to sleep with the married men, the husbands of our friends.  “ I said, sadly, remembering. All I’d done is ask her not to with my boss and his wife there. She went into one 

her slam the doors rages. Otherwise she did the cold chill. More like the Arctic.’

“I had a sperm test.” I said on a change of note. “ Most humiliating thing in my life. Masturbating alone with a magazine and jar the girl at the clinic had given me.  You’d think that would be a guy job. But no, a peppy young girl. It was  a rainy night. I cried  She’d refused to go to the clinic herself or with me. I went alone. Curious.  The report card came back and the boys had passed but it, didn’t matter.  I couldn’t blame her if she was infertile.  But was she.  She had had the abortion and I suspect that was it. I blamed her for marrying under false pretences. I blamed her for saying she wanted children but not having sex and making it about me . I blamed her for blaming me.  Ultimately I blamed her mother. “ 

“As you said, “the mother could be blamed’. But not if you were Latin, The Catholics got that right,” she laughed.  

“I gave up you know” I said,wading past her laughter, reallly on a role. . “When the court believed that ugly lying psychopath and I had to pay a million because she ‘claimed’ I’d said I wanted sex with her. She was such a disgusting fat and stinky thing but the judge, smiled at her and made me pay.  She claimed she was hurt by words I never said and wouldn’t in a life time. I was vindicated later but two years of time and money, living in fear, losing all respect for the courts and government. It came out at the appeal, she did this sort of thing. Falsely accusing men, extorting, lying. I was the only one who’d gone on to the appeal. Turned the whole thing over but no consequence for her.”

“It’s an industry now “ my friend said“The courts only make money if they can move it from one to another. The lawyers take a third on either side and create disputes. These false allegations are the norm in this country. It’s why they have perjury laws elsewhere in France the the most famous book ‘j’accuse’ . It’s what this was all about this. Freedom. Truth.But here they want lies and informers.adon’t care if they lie, it’s about everyone as informer. You are an unimpeachable good man. You’ve given a life time of service. She’s a skank.” I loved how she spit out the word then continued.

“The court wants everyone guilty. Even though they say ‘innocent until proven guilty’ the court actually works on the basis of ‘guilty until proven innocent”. That’s where your million went. To pay your lawyer and the court. The  courts threw her a thousand to pay for her performance. I loved Davidson writing about these girls considering testimony their fine art projects and expecting rewards for their works of fiction. The latest book says that ‘50% are false allegations’. It might be more. Remember when the courts  believed men with 8 inch penises were raping infant girls and there was no damage. They didn’t listen to the doctors. That scam still goes on. The courts are only interested in maintaining the status quot.  They took your money and your time because they could. “. She was laughing.  “It’s really great being a girl. I’ve loved it but I’m not a skank.“.  She was smug. ‘I was a good wife.’   ‘What did your psychiatrist say?”

“He said I could be a ‘bitter old man’.  “Bitter old men and bitter old women are a dime a dozen,” I answered.

“Carpe diem.  Elkhart Toole wrote ‘the power of the now.”  Brother Lawrence , called it, “practicing the presence of God’. She said. 

“So let go of the past.  Forgive. “ I said, questioning.

“You could still have children.”  

‘I thought of it. My friend tried to set me up with a young Asian girl. I was just afraid as a man to have a child in this country. I see the women and the courts using them always to extort more money from the guys.  I once dreamed of our children and our family but watching this government and the trend I don’t care to pay for a child that the state will create a monster from. Parents have no more rights and their children aren’t their own. There are no freedoms.  I see men being blamed and families divided, women rewarded for giving the state evidence against the men,whether it is false or true

“Old white men are the target today.” She said.

“ I actually think of having a sex change. I’ve cross dressed since acting days..  I’ve had sex with men and it wasn’t the horror women make it out to be. I’ve no desire to be a knight.  I did my time as Galahad and I don’t want to be a celibate monk.  The society’s a matriarchy.  If I was a woman I’d have children but I can’t have children. I’m not so much waiting for the messiah to come as wondering what to do in death’s vestibule. I’m not ready for board games and frankly I’ve cared for thousands of other’s children and served more women than I can remember. I like to hunt and fish and travel and write and read. I’m waiting to die.  I’ve been raped, rejected, underpaid, stolen from, castrated. To quote the Travelling Wilbury’s, “I”ve been beat up.”

“Self pity doesn’t become you.  Take up sky diving.  Or come with me. I’m off to buy some new shoes. We can make a date for getting our nails done. If you shoot a deer I expect you to invite me for dinner. “  she laughed. I liked her laughter. 

“

“