I’ve been dilly-dallying about writing this post for months. In some ways, writing this out will make it more real for me, and in some ways it terrifies me to write it. Because what if writing it makes it not so? What if writing it curses the whole thing? This will all seem very confusing in light of recent developments in my previously existing love life, I’m sure. What if everyone says I’m crazy. But hey, it’s Independence Day, so let’s give it a whirl.
Things have been in the works, in discussion, for years in a way. But now? The back-up plan may just come to fruition. And while I am entirely glowingly delighted, I am nervous something will go wrong.
BC, my dearest homo friend, and I have been friends for nine years, ever since a summer as camp counselors in New Jersey. We’ve been through deaths in the family, break ups, horrible birthdays, living together (twice), long distance friendship, and thousands of hours talking, laughing, crying, and watching the Golden Girls on t.v.
And we’re both good little citizens. He has a great job in public service working with kids. I have a good stable job in the bureaucracy. He’s buying a home. I’m looking. We have good benefits, close families, and local friends. And all along the way, we’ve discussed the back-up plan.
The back-up plan has been around for at least three years now as a fully functioning concept. Essentially, we’d become Will & Grace. But it would actually work out in the end and not have some bizarre flashback-filled series end episode. We want to have a baby. Our baby. And to raise it- together.
You see, through ten years and even my engagement, we both like each other better than anyone else. Well, except for the “intimate” bits. We have the same ideas about what we want as parents- education, religion, family, neighborhoods, rules, etc. BC has been my go-to person in matters of the heart, when I needed nursed back from my surgery (even when I was living with the ex who couldn’t bother), when I needed moved in a flood, when I needed a bourbon or a shoulder to cry on.
And after a few swoon-worthy moments lately, I still want the back-up plan.
It probably doesn’t make sense to a lot of people who would argue that we should both partner off with our own kind and wait, even if we had to adopt to make it happen with our significant others. But the thing of it is- I don’t want to. And we both glow like fireflies when we get talking about it- about the logistics, about the late nights in the early years (when BC would move in with me to help with the load), about baby names.
And we both agree, neither of us would want more than a baby just like the other. Which is something I’ve always wanted to feel about whoever I had children with. So in January while we were both in New Orleans, I floated the plan again. And he said he’s just waiting for me to say the word. On my own time.
So, am I insane? Would it really be so odd- to have a baby with someone I love dearly and who loves me back, even if we aren’t the traditional couple everyone thinks of as parents? Would it be so bad to raise a child with two people who never divorced or had drama to love it, even if they eventually paired off with other people?
I’ve been over and over it all in my head a thousand times and asked all the questions about what the future would hold if… if BC met someone. If I did. If work kept calling me out of town all the time. If, if, if. And it keeps coming down to the basics. In ten years, a thousand ifs have come up. And we have always, with grace, laughter, and a sense of humor, managed to come together stronger than ever in our love for each other.
So what if we just go through with it? I’ve already been to my doctor and gotten the long list of to-do’s for the next year to get ready- vitamins, exercise, quitting smoking, and switching out the bourbon for water more often. I’ve got an eye on the income and the finances. I’ve started to set aside a little money and scoped out the health insurance, which would cover the whole procedure.
It’s a game of hurry up and wait. But for once, I’m actually excited about a back-up plan more than the original. And I have a year to make the final arrangements. The clock (my biological one) is ticking on down at 32.
And I think, just once, I have made the right decision about a man.