I only *look* fertile.

I wrote the first part of this two weeks ago. I was just going to leave it as a draft (because it's on the rant-y side) but today...ugh. Well, we will get to it.
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Guys: You need to learn when to shut up.

I haven't experienced this with women to the degree that I have with men.

Male teachers, when I work in their classrooms, inevitably ask if I have kids. No? Why not? Do I want to have kids? Obviously I like kids, since I work with them. Am I planning to have them in the near future? And uh, how old are you, anyway? Because you know, none of us are getting any younger, haha!

I tend to use the word "Eventually." Or "Someday." If they're really aggressive about it, they'll get "Whenever it happens." Which is as much info as I think they deserve.

The kids in my classes want to know this about me too. Actually, they say things like "Why don't you have kids? Don't you like us?" Or "If you had kids, they would be so lucky! You could teach them science! They could make slime EVERY DAY!"

Yes, slime-making is a large part of my job. I know you're jealous.

The kids' questions don't bother me to the degree that the male questions do, although they tend to trigger more tears, upon reflection.

Seriously, though, where do these guys come from?

One of my former co-workers kept bugging me, "Why aren't you and your husband pregnant yet?"

One day, fed up (during my first bout with Clomid) I snapped,

"We think sex is icky."

The reaction was hilarious, but I have never had the guts to try using that one again. He did quit asking, after that.

The night before my IUI, I went to girls night out at my fave dive-y place, and for some stupid reason, I was mobbed. All night. I kept waving my wedding ring around, and either Gonal-F contains some serious pheremones, or drunk men are attracted to shiny things, because what started out as a fun night out disentigrated into testosterone-filled craziness.

My stock intro is, "Oh my name is Jenna. And I'm married." Because I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Every. single. one. followed that up with, "Really? Got any kids?"

And reacted with amazement when I said no. And asked how long we had been married. Then offered to rectify that pesky childless situation. Or just kept saying, "But why not?" Like my childlessness was a sin against God.

One actually said, "I can fix that in about 15 minutes. Or you could just use my toothbrush? I think that works, too." Another one suggested that maybe my husband was "doing it wrong". (Ha! Mister 100 million? Ooookay dude.)

I don't understand it. Do men think that they can tell by looking at you if you're fertile or not? I know there's a bunch of stuff out there about waist/hip measurement, long hair, blah blah.

Is that it? I do have long hair, and was actually complimented on my "beautiful, shapely, natural nails" (down, boy!)the other night, although that probably owes more to prenatal vitamins than anything else. I'm thinking it's more about my cleavage. But then, I tend to be suspicious by nature.

I don't know.

And then, today!

I was at work at a home show, making slime for kids (yes, this really is part of my job. Wooo! Science!) and went looking around on my break. I was still wearing my lab coat and Converse sneakers. And my wedding ring.

I was looking at a place that sold pet stuff, and the guy at the booth next door kept looking over, and so I smiled at him. Mainly because there was nobody at his booth, and I felt bad! It was a public utility, so not the most popular destination.

He started asking me questions about the classes I teach and the birthday party packages that my workplace offers, because his kid is turning 5, and he and his wife are planning the party. He asked if I was married. (Yes.) He asked if I had kids.(No.)

"Why not?" he asked.

"I just don't." I kept being friendly, because I am wearing my lab coat with my company info on it, and he is a potential customer. We chit-chatted for awhile, and then he said, AGAIN,

"I just can't believe you don't have kids? How long have you been married?"

Questions like this make me want to look at my watch and say, "Oh, about 15 minutes."

Or, you know, "Eff you, you effing effer, it's none of your effing business."

I started to try to politely end the conversation, and...GET THIS!

"Do you live near ______?"

Completely astounded (and also really, really stupidly) I said yes.

"Here's my number. Why don't you give me a call sometime? I think I have seen you around- I am in your neighborhood a lot. We could go get a latte and hang out."

He handed me a card. While I started to panic. Oh crap, he's probably our meter reader. Note to self- don't forget to close the blinds.

"Um....I know my husband wouldn't be thrilled."

"Oh...really? My wife is cool with me having female friends."

My face must have been hilarious, because he just laughed, took the card from me, and dropped it into the bag he was giving me with the water conservation pamphlets and the squeezy stress thing shaped like a life preserver. And said, "Well, give me a call sometime!"

Holy crap.