Harmless Riff on an Old Theme

I suspect that no one is actually reading this. (Incidentally, I giggled a bit when Karen, a few days ago asked, If no one were reading your blog, would you still write it? Um, so far, yes.)

Anyway, given the total absence of an audience, it's perfectly ok for me to write another verse - and not even a very innovative one - in the age-old ballad entitled, "They Say the Most Unbelievable Things."

On Saturday, Mr. Jae and I went to a wedding. The groom is a good friend of Mr. Jae's but more of an acquaintance of mine. And though I knew a few friends of the couple there, the wedding reception was largely populated by people I had never met before in my life.

Now, here's a pop quiz. Where would you think would be the most appropriate place to discuss my reproductive status?

a. Among close friends and family.
b. At the aforementioned gathering of complete strangers.

The answer, my non-existent readers, is b. It's true. Although even the friends and family who know about my infertility rarely if ever ask how the journey to parenthood is going, and although I often feel like the Bad Evil Infertile Bitch Lady when I bring up the topic, every man, woman, and child at this wedding saw fit to make a polite inquiry about my reproductive life.

Example 1:

I am standing on the lawn with my husband; a female friend I'll call Kay, whom I suspect may be having a secondary infertility problem, although I don't know her that well; and a woman my husband and Kay sort of know but whom I have just met, and whom I'll call Sue, which is her real name (look out for Sue, everyone!):

[general wedding chit-chat, blather about how old and mature Kay's three-year-old son is getting, etc.]

Sue [to Kay]: So, are you guys trying for another one?

Kay [whose social grace is way, way, way up there at a level I can't even dream of reaching]: Oh, maybe sometime soon.

Me [knowing I'm next]: I'm going to get something to drink. [Speedy exit without graceful farewell to anyone. Berate self for not being strong enough to stay there and give Miss Manners's recommended response, "I'm surprised you would ask that."]

Turns out that after I left Sue did ask Mr. Jae when we're going to have kids, and Mr. Jae, being far more composed, charitable, and willing to lie to lubricate a social situation than I, replied, "We don't have any plans." I love that man.

Example 2:

At dinner I'm seated next to a guy named Christopher, a complete stranger.

[could you pass the butter, what do you do for work, aren't housing prices outrageous, etc.]

[short silence]

Christopher: So, are you guys going to have kids?

Me [looking away and trying to be poised, but mumbling]: Hopefully someday.

Christopher: Sorry, what? Hopefully someday?

Me: Yeah.

[Short pause]

Me: Do you have any kids?

I should have just said yes, because we are going to have kids, whether through adoption or through pregnancy. But was I calm enough to think of that? Certainly not.

Damn. Why does it rattle me so much? It always comes out of nowhere, this nosiness. Yuck.