Reason number two a woman is having an abortion: unreliable partner.
These days, for me, exemplify rarely anything short of distant men. Men who have gone inside themselves, or somewhere completely away. Men who were never there to begin with. Sometimes I wonder if I ever could have done something else.
Chosen a different career.
The great new-age, theorizing men who trip and adventure and write, will suggest we find ourselves within ourselves, the world, move-on in all things—ourselves, autonomous, personally thriving, hopeful for even more life to explore on other planets. Children are the world’s children. We can only evolve our matter, mater, make ourselves light. They are men. They overwhelming generally take the kids for a day?
What if I don’t get a lover until more lovers accompany their lovers to the abortion clinic. Instead of chronically dwelling in lone one-time loverville where the women are pregnant and off or on. Oh.
Men who oppress. Yesterday: Mom and nineteen-year-old daughter. Devout Christian mother asks me how a virgin gets pregnant. She doesn’t. I look directly into the young woman’s eyes. Say, rarely sexual foreplay leads to ejaculation close enough to create pregnancy. Her eyes. That’s not it. Say, pregnancy can occur when a woman is sexually assaulted or raped. Her eyes well. She says, I think. I was drinking and I just can’t remember after the bathroom. We speak of time-released inebriation, the need for a buddy, to never go alone with a new man under the influence and then, most importantly, the definition of date-rape. Finally, impaired judgement does not excuse assault, no-way, no-how, never. I see an immense shadow lift from this young girl, another deep and winding shadow settling in.
What if Virginity was every time a man and woman faced one another sober and respectful and the man said, yes and the woman said, yes and they made love or whatever with all intentions of thriving on their own for one another?
Men who leave. Yesterday: Two friends have sex and she gets pregnant and he never wanted the baby or to pay for an abortion. So he doesn’t. Same man has two kids he takes every once in a while, delights for a day, then retracts to go hunting or something gamey like shooting wolves or marbles or loaded semen.
Children are the world’s children. But what about being made of certain pieces of two by two by two beings?
Men who love. Yesterday: Lovers. Thank goodness. The last patient has a lover. He asks questions. She asks questions. They openly agree to try new things. We laugh and get sentimental. They pay cash--half and half. She has an abortion. I finish my day. I exit to a bright, fresh sun. The lover is awaiting his lover outside the recovery-room door and calls, Thank you, Daughter, waving and gracious. Thank you, too, I call. For loving your girl.