Childless Regrets Pt. 2

I keep trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Where the missed opportunities were, why i didn't recognize or appreciate that not having children or not being in a stable relationship to have them was wrong. That I was doing something fundamentally flawed. Self doubt, lack of confidence was part of it. This overwhelming feeling that I was never good enough for any woman. That no one would ever love me, appreciate me or find me an acceptable or appealing partner. Funny, I still struggle with that problem. Its what has made my career more successful than my relationships with women. But at the same time made my relationships with others so difficult, if not impossible.

At work I push, push, push myself to do more, work smarter, work harder, start earlier, and stay later. I can see how well I do in either my pay, my annual reviews, or the metrics for my performance. But in a relationship how on earth do you know if it is going good? How doing you know if your doing a good "job", meeting the "expectations", or exceeding the "goals"? In short how can you know or feel secure in a relationship while not resting your hopes and dreams on a house of cards.? I just don't know how to answer those questions. I suppose the correct answer is, "Clark, this isn't a job or game. Its a relationship. It involves a thing called trust which you have in very short supply". I try to think which relationships, not just romantic relationships, with men or women I have ever felt secure or trusted. The answer, sorry to say, is none. I have never felt safe or secure in any relationship I have ever had. I can remember being 14 years old and sitting on this creepy gold sofa in my mothers living room (she had a thing for slightly gaudy, creepy looking furnishings) and knowing, not just thinking, but knowing that this whole relationship thing would never work out for me. That in the end I would be alone and miserable. It was an overwhelming fear, a dread certainty, that I can still remember to this day, still remember the terror of that moment

I have always felt I could lose it all in the blink of an eye. That my relationships with the opposite sex could disappear in a blink of an eye. I guess that would explain my tendency to either pull away after committing or going the old fashioned route and engaging in deliberate self destruction of all my personal relationships, especially romantic attachments. Of the eight serious romantic relationships I have had with women Three relationships I just lost interest in pursuing and broke it off. Two others broke it off with me (after ignoring them). One I was so seriously in love with that we dated for two years, never touched and I broke it off when I realized I would never have the courage to tell her how I really felt., I ended two others I cared about deeply (One for getting drunk constantly, other because I knew she wouldn't marry me. Which I desperately wanted at the time.) that just wouldn't work out. These dint include my two marriages. The first ended in divorce when she fell in love with another man. Second is currently ongoing, but is a very distant relationship with minimal emotional attachment.

There were two women who definitely wanted to marry me and have children besides my current wife. Angie T. and Cecilia M. wanted to have have the relationship and children. Angie I met when I was 22 years old and working for a construction company. She was a gymnast from the Philippines. I felt she was to clingy, to needy. I would get calls all times of the day and night. Everything I liked she adopted. I was a fan of the California Angels, so she became one. I took up running, so did she. Just a constant desire to be with me at all times and places. It was claustrophobic. Cecilia I met on a blind date. I was 35 years old, she was 33 years old. She was from Panamá. The relationship started strong, but eventually withered and died. She was pushy and assertive. She was also a snob. Her family prided itself on its "Spanish" heritage. That was her way of saying they didn't sleep (the more direct verb is "fuck") with people of non white or mixed race heritage. She would refer to Indians, Mestizos, Blacks etc as "dirty people". She didn't even think that was even borderline insensitive let alone racist. That was a quality I didn't appreciate no matter whatever else she brought to the table, or bed.

Childless Regrets Pt. 1

So this is where I am. After two marriages I have three step children, seven grand children, all from my second wife. All of which are precious and wonderful to me. Between both wives there were three pregnancies and three miscarriages. I have children from 33 years in age to 25 years in age. Grandchildren in all shapes and sizes from 18 years to one due this October. I have a quiet reflective granddaughter that would put a convent of nuns to shame for her seriousness. I also have a rambunctious three year old grandson that could have sacked Rome single handily if given the chance. As I said all shapes, sizes, and temperaments. All who I dearly love and for not one minute have ever treated me with the least kindness and affection.


So why is it I still wish I had biological children? Children of my own flesh and blood?

I keep making lists and explanations for how I feel. None of them really tell me alot about why I feel the way I do. I tell myself, "Would you love your biological children more than your stepchildren?". I think not. I always loved my stepchildren from early on in my relationship with my current wife. My son, "R", was nine years old when I started dating my wife. My daughters "M" and "J" were 17 years and 14 years respectively. I had fun with R & J. They were charming sweet good natured kids. Loved animals, helped their mother, respectful to others, all the things I was brought up to believe. My father, a man of notoriously difficult attitude and character, loved them from the minute he met them. That in itself was as much a recommendation to their character as anything.

Another one is, "I need a biological child to prove the love my wife and I have.". But I don't know what that really means. How does having a child prove love one way or another? Many couples have children and are wonderful parents, but so many are not. How many children are ignored, unappreciated, or just unloved. And we are not talking about the truly evil stuff. How many alcoholics, drug addicts, and borderline personality cases have children? Even worse, how many child murderers, child molesters, child abusers, and other equally foul miscreants have children and what does it say about them? Does having a child or children mean you love them or want a steady supply of non responsive targets? Granted that having children really doesn't mean your going to abuse them, but what does it mean? Does it mean anything more than that the sex drive and urge to procreate is extraordinarily powerful? Like the tide not easily resisted? I cant get past it being a strong inbred instinct. But if that's the case, why am I so glad my first wife and I never had children even though we had two miscarriages? Why is it I am glad I never got any girl friends pregnant? But it also means I terribly regret not having children with one of my girlfriends of the past. I wonder why I never had the courage to follow up the opportunity since she so clearly and desperately wanted to have children with me. So what is this drive? I want to have children with only some women, but not all. But there were three women who wanted my children, Angie, Margaret, and Juana. All were willing and had four miscarriages between them. So why am I glad we didn't have children?

The last sentence leads me to this bizarre counter intuitive question considering all I have written above: If I am so sad and regretful I didn't have children, why am I so relieved at the same time? Lets talk about your mixed messages here. I secretly think I would have made a poor parent. My parents were not good roll models. Both alcoholics, both anger issues. Mom was the kind of gal who brought home a lot of men. Sometimes two or three at a time. Kind of like bringing home bananas from the store (pretty graphic phallic imagery there) she did it in bunches. Dad was a guy who probably should have gotten laid more regularly. There is the old joke about someone who is uptight needs a glass of wine and a blow job. Dad certainly had the wine, but I think he was missing out on the blow job. Dad was also a workaholic. Both parent suffered from the same defect. They couldn't relate to people outside of their crutch areas. From Mom, if she was not fucking you, drinking with you, or partying with you, she couldn't talk or have a relationship with you. For Dad it was if he couldn't drink with you, or didn't work with you, he couldn't relate to you.

To much to review let alone resolve tonight. Will continue later