Late night rantings

In the end, it’s the fundamental unfairness of the universe that gets to me. I look around me at all the people I know who are having or have had babies. Some are good at the job, and embrace it eagerly, some could care the less, and some are actively hostile to the entire concept of offspring. Yet, Mags and I are unable to conceive, and Mags is totally against the idea of adopting. I love children, and want the chance to be the good father that I know I have the ability to be, yet I will never get that chance.

Then there’s Pigeon. The ink on his divorce papers hasn’t had time to dry, and he shows up tonight with another stunner on his arm. I love Mags, and am (usually) glad I married her, but it would have been nice, at some point in my life, to have had the real stunners interested in me as something other than the friendly shoulder to cry on when the latest pretty boy they were dating did them wrong.

Intellectually, I know that at some point in the future, my drive will slow down and dwindle, and the friendships will still be there. Still, have you noticed the ones who are giving that advice are the ones who have the active sex lives? The ones that regularly engage in practices that would cause the world’s top porn stars to turn white and grasp the furniture for support? “Oh, I’ve tried that, and trust me, it’s not really what it’s cracked up to be…” Yes, but what about those of us who want to find that out for themselves? It fits in the same category as the rich person who tells you that money can’t buy happiness while you’re desperately trying to figure out how you’re going to pay the rent.

Money can’t buy love, but it can rent a close approximation for a while.

I suppose I should take some satisfaction that the quality of my problems has improved. I no longer worry about finding a dry place to sleep at night, and have the time to worry about these things.

It’s the unfairness that gets to me. In the end, this is my latest crisis of faith. The religion of my childhood taught me that the suffering of this life was all in preparation for the glorious eternity of the next one. Why, then, do those that seem evil seem to prosper, while those who strive to do good face pain and suffering? Free will just doesn’t cut it as an answer anymore.

Looking this over, I’m going to catch hell about this one at home once Mags checks up on me, and honestly, right now, I don’t care. (I can hear it now, “You know that sex we were planning to have? Ever?”) I have to get it out before I burst.