Below is a guest post from a friend I know IRL…sort of. We’re in the same program and have many of the same professional and research interests, although she started long enough after I began that we’ve rarely run into each other in person (we don’t even live in the same town!). We do, however, follow each other’s many blogs, pseudonymous and otherwise. If you like what you read here, check out Demeter’s House.
Forgive me readers, for I have sinned. It’s been four months since my last sexual encounter.
Four months–I know, I know. A terrible sin for a woman in her sexual prime. But it goes back to that tricky question Honey raised last week about when to reveal certain things.
Maybe part of my problem is that I’ve spent too much time over the years with my guy-pals, sitting in creaky wooden chairs at the neighborhood bar as we drank our beers and talked about girls. On those Guinness nights my guy-pals told me that they would never date a divorced woman. And they sure as hell wouldn’t date a divorced woman with children. My guy-pals, who admittedly function under overly-simplistic equations, saw it this way: single mom = needy, clingy woman. And my guy-pals ran from this most ominous breed of female.
When I was sitting around having those beer-induced talks with my guy-pals, I had no idea that I would become the divorced woman. With children. But wait, there’s more. The children happen to have pervasive developmental disabilities.
Running yet, boys?