I just read an article yesterday, in my hard-hitting Entertainment Weekly, because I think it's important to stay abreast of the news. In it, a gay actor (that guy from Girls, you know the one? I love him) said young gay people don't go to gay bars anymore. They make fun of gay bars.
I mean, this is good. I like it that gay and straight people are living in harmony and teaching the world to sing and gay people don't need their own bars anymore. But man, do I love a good gay bar. Plus, gay bars have those great names: Woody's (there was a Woody's in my old neighborhood in LA), The Empty Closet, The Bangkok. Fudge.
I guess nothing stays the same. I should have lived in New York in the late '70s, when all the gay men were the most fabulous and still alive. How a 14-year-old could have afforded her own New York apartment is beyond me. Brooke Shields did, though.
I just started the last four paragraphs with "I."
Oh, speaking of The News, a reader, and I forget who, emailed me awhile back and said, "Joooooon. Have you looked at that gossip site, Crazy Days and Nights?" She said it was written by an entertainment lawyer or something, and they have a section called Blind Items Revealed that is to die for. Navigating the site is a NIGHTMARE, but it's full of the gossip.
I knew about poor Jennifer Garner and Ben Affliction or whatever months ago. I also knew about Jon Hamm.
Because Jon Hamm is available, did you see that? Okay, he's 90 days out of rehab. Hooo care? Actually, I'd be interested to know when exactly they broke up, because your first year of sobriety you aren't supposed to break up with or meet anyone. So I'd love to judge if he's doing it wrong. Poor Jon Hamm.
Actually, what I read was, he told his girlfriend of SIXTEEN YEARS that he doesn't want kids after all, and girlfriend is 42, so what's she supposed to do now? I mean, ship has sailed. You know what the very worst thing would be? Is if he meets someone else, marries her right away, and they have kids. I've heard of that happening. I don't know how, if a man does that to you, you can stop yourself from driving over to his house and killing him right in the head.
Fortunately, the siren song of having children never called to me, so this was never an issue. But did I ever tell you about how I got pregnant when I was married? Oh, I was so annoyed.
I've never wanted kids. Not once. Not for an iota of a second. Someone in my family did a family tree, and it's amazing how many of my women, back in the 1800s and early 1900s, didn't have kids, either. My Aunt Mary also doesn't have kids. We have no maternal gene.
Anyway, when I was 31 and already dating Marvin and it looked marriage-y, I got my tubes tied. The pill and Depo shots gave me migraines, and insurance covered it. This was back when insurance covered stuff. Remember those heady days? The whole operation cost me $40.
That was in 1996, and in the year 2000, I ran a marathon in Chicago. I got back November 1, I remember this, and hadn't seen Marvin in a week, so boom.
It was less than two weeks later that I started to feel what you might call logy. I'd get out the car to go to work and it seemed like the whole parking lot was tilted. Dizzy? You don't know the half of it. I'd get off the elevator and even though I wasn't in the door of the office yet, I'd think, "God, who brought doughnuts? Yuck." I could smell
and everything made me sick. "I think I'm pregnant," I said to Marvin, who didn't want kids either, and that's why I married him. Well, that and Annie Hall was his favorite movie. "You're not pregnant." Marvin stampeded to the computer to Ask Jeeves or whatever we did in 2000. "There's a .05 percent chance you could ever get pregnant after a tubal litigation." Marvin was forever screwing up words and finding himself hilarious.
I called my doctor, who has now quit the profession, and she said the same thing, but to come in and they'd do a blood test because it was too soon to tell with a urine test back then. I'd had my period during the marathon, which by the way was a lot of fun and super convenient.
I continued to smell each cleaning product, individually, in the grocery aisle, and in fact, I was AT the grocery store when I saw a homeless man holding and rocking an invisible baby. "That is IT," I said, and bought a pregnancy test.
I got home and peed on a stick, and I'll bet you're glad you tuned in today. June's blog. Come for the body fluids. So to speak.
When that damn test showed a plus sign, I screamed. Screamed. Then I ran into the dining room, where I remember Mr. Horkheimer sizing my screamy self up. "God. Get hold of self, Hair."
Right then the phone rang, and I sobbily answered. It was my doctor. "Honey?" she said, and I KNEW BY HER DAMN HONEY that she had what was for me bad news. Goddammit.
And here's the worst part. The part I will never forgive. NEVER FORGIVE. When I called Marvin with my news, he was all, "Really!?"
HE WAS HAPPY. HE WAS GODDAMN HAPPY.
Oh, I was mad at him. The whole POINT of Marvin was that he didn't want kids, either. Next thing you know he'd be telling me his favorite movie was really Cocktail.
So, I decided I was going to have a baby. Oh, I didn't want to. I was bracing myself. I figured I was financially okay, I was happily married, I was an adult. Ish. And right when I accepted the idea, I had a miscarriage.
Dear God: What the hell?
So that's that story. I will not go into what happens next, but it involved Marvin sitting on a bag of frozen peas for a weekend.
Heck, it's 8:32 already. I was gonna tell you how I went to the movies last night and saw Pretty Woman, and guess what? Early '90s fashion. Not good. Not good at all.