This summer I got married. Somehow it was not shocking to my friends or family. Maybe that was because we had been together for five years, and had been engaged for one and a half.
I would have been happy to go along in our engaged way for many a year, but Bulent, in his infinite wisdom, encouraged me to marry him sooner rather than later. I am so glad he convinced me. Being married (to him) is fantastic. I don’t know why. We were in love before, but somehow marriage makes it all fresh and dewy and wonderful.
Now that we are married, everyone seems to be asking us the same question. When are you having babies? What is interesting is that my family, and his family are not pressuring us—actually they don’t really mention it. It is our co-workers, our dentist, the people at the dog park and various random other people we barely know at all that are trying to convince us to have children sooner than later. I was actually told—by a casual acquaintance—that my life has no meaning because I don’t have children. Bullshit.
Every time I wear a loose shirt or tunic at work people ask me if I am pregnant. Sometimes I tell them yes, just to freak them out. Though in their defense, there are so many pregnant teachers at work it looks contagious.
I am also confused by these strangers who are pressuring me to have children. What is up with that? What’s their angle? What will they gain from it? Trust me, if I know your dog’s name but not yours, we probably won’t be hanging out.
Has anyone else noticed this? Once you get married people think your biological clock becomes a bomb and people nearby try to diffuse it so you don’t explode. Are they afraid they are in danger?
A lot of my friends, my age and older, have kids. They are wonderful and fantastic and I love them. Kids are great, but we are not there yet. We are not aboard the baby train. Though, practice makes perfect and I am not going to lie and say we don’t enjoy the practice.