work peeps (wp for short) were going out to happy hour today. i was not planning on going. however, the “organizer” made a direct request to my face today to go. so, i did go. it was fun.

but the weird thing is, the “organizer” and i finally had a real conversation. somehow age came up (this was after you left, D). after i said “i’m way older than you” (i thought he was in mid-20’s) and he said “well, it’s not like you’re in your 40’s or something”

and it occurred to me, why yes, actually i AM in my 40’s. holy shit. it’s just occuring to me now? i mean, it’s one thing to say “i’m 40–” and it’s another to say “i’m IN my 40’s” jesus. i felt suddenly very old.

then he seemed all nervous and backtracking because i wouldn’t confirm or deny. he said he knew it was rude to ask a woman her age. i said it was fine, and admitted how old i really am. apparently, i am 10 years older than him.

this look crossed his face then, ever so quickly, but i saw it, like, well…i won’t say. okay. i’ll say it. i saw this look of dismissal. like, oh, you’re too old for me…

he said he thought i was in my late 20’s or early 30’s. well. that’s a pretty common assumption. flattering, but when they find out the truth, depressing…

it occured to me that a lot of the men i meet who are decent, unmarried, and that i might ever consider being worthy, are around 10 years younger than me.

on the drive home, i started to cry about it. tears streamed down my face. i said out loud “i’m not going to have children. it’s too late. i’m never going to have children.”

it hurt. more than it has in a very long time. i don’t know why, but that conversation (and a couple glasses of wine, no doubt) just hit me like a ton of bricks.

i’m too old. it’s too late.

PS– please refrain from reassurances that i am not too old or stories about women at 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, etc. having kids. people used to say those things when i was in my 20’s. i’ve heard all my adult life, “you’ll have kids, it’s not too late.”

clearly those people were wrong. it doesn’t help…