It’s been a week now since I bumped into Max, and I can’t stop thinking about him. I don’t want to interfere – I promised – but I’m worried. Too many times I’ve read tragic stories in the news about what happens when the pressure becomes too much. Men just like Max. He was the life and soul of the party. He’d just had a new baby, he seemed so happy. All his friends loved him. He was a brilliant husband and dad.
I resolve to check in on him daily and bombard him with texts and voice messages. Basically it’s the opposite of ghosting. It drives him potty and he begs me to stop. I refuse. I’m like a kidnapper demanding a ransom: he speaks to Michelle and he’ll get his life back; a life that doesn’t include about twenty messages and several missed calls a day.
Meanwhile, I’m feeling a bit depressed after my doctor’s visit. Being perimenopausal might not be as bad as losing your job (It’s worse! I’m joking. Sort of.), but at least you can get another job, whereas I’m looking at a future of night sweats and hot flushes and elasticated trousers, because nothing else is going to fit me after I’ve gained all that weight.
Of course, I realize this is just a new stage of life, and one that – if all this midlife stuff is to be believed – I should be embracing. But what if you’re not ready for this new stage? What if you haven’t even reached the old stage yet? Even if you’re not sure about having kids it’s comforting to know you’ve got options. No one wants to be The Woman For Whom Time Ran Out. You want to be the one making the decisions. Sitting on the fence is one thing, but what happens when the fence is taken away from you? Do you jump off joyfully or fall crashing to the floor?
I don’t know, but I’m sure someone has written an article about it. Because of course it’s a free-for-all when it comes to women and the issue of children. I’ve lost count of the number of articles I’ve read about the perils of being a teenage/single/older mum (delete depending on what day it is). The warnings from ‘experts’ against focusing on your career and leaving it too late, versus the shaming of teenage pregnancy. For young women today, to freeze or not to freeze, that is now the question. And let’s not forget the endless debates about those who choose not to have children.
Everyone has an opinion about it. It’s quite strange really, when you think about it, because we just accept it as normal. For years I’ve been told that as a woman my thirty-fifth birthday was to be spent panicking as my fertility threw itself off a cliff. While if you believe everything you read, turning fifty appears to hold the joys of dealing with The Menopause.
I can’t wait!
Meanwhile, men get to buy a sports car and a leather jacket.
Such is my excitement that I talk about this in my latest Confessions podcast. I also talk about Johnny. Being reminded of him at the doctor’s is partly the reason for my slump. I’m still no closer to working out why he ghosted me, but I have a feeling it’s going to be one of those unsolved crimes. ‘The Date That Vanished: A True-Life Mystery’.
However, I have worked out that it’s not really him I miss – after all, we only went on three dates – but all the promise that came with him. Being an anonymous podcaster, I refer to him as Mr Potential because, if I’m honest with myself, that’s what I was probably the most excited about.
It’s a dangerous thing, potential.
I’m grateful for: