Expecting expectations

A friend asked lately how my "adventures" were coming along. I didn't know how to answer.

Those "adventures" had ended. I wrote finis to that in TIS2005. It's a whole new ballgame this time.

MC came to see me at work yesterday to share the news with me: she's three months on the family way. Her third pregnancy, there's some 10 years between the last one and this. I bewailed the fact that everyone seems to be having babies, except me. And that led to the discussion about a "sperm donor."

Turns out she and her husband have a friend who had said he'd be willing to impregnate a woman on demand. An officer and a gentleman, this guy has been separated de facto from his spouse for the last seven years. He has several children, one with his legal wife and I don’t know how many with another woman -- or other women.

Interesting.

I now have two candidates for the father of my child: MC’s friend and my gym instructor.

GS, the gym instructor. Ah, now that is a beautiful specimen of a man. In his early 30s, this guy is dark and handsome, with such a winning smile. He has exhibited the required minimum level of intelligence and a character strong enough to make it in the world. Add to that a level of sensitivity higher than most Filipino men.

He is married to S who is, perhaps, 15 years older than he. They own and run the gym I go to. GS is S’s second husband, the first marriage having ended in annulment. Grounds: irreconcilable differences or, in other words, domestic violence. Now, S being in her late 40s, can no longer bear GS a child, which fact, I think, is not significant to S, having had at least three children during her first marriage.

I started at that gym last August, attending the aero classes. Three months later, I still have my excess 30 pounds to lose and have not been able to keep up with the steps. No matter how simple the moves were, I remained kinesthetically challenged. When the new year rolled in, I made a determined decision to give up the fantasy of ever learning to move gracefully and, consequently, the aero classes. Instead, I signed up for resistance and weight training.

Enter GS.

Normally, I don’t go for younger men. They’re such babies. But GS started to exhibit the behavior of a man who finds me attractive: the shy smile, the furtive eyes, the flushed cheeks, and all those little things that make my eyes narrow and my eyebrows curve up to the ceiling. Much like Freddy’s behavior during the early part of our, uhm, courtship? (It has been a courtship, come to think of it. Now, we’ve settled into a more comfortable position vis-à-vis each other.)

GS is, however, more pro-active than Freddy. Whereas Freddy wouldn’t even touch me, literally, with a 10-foot pole, GS was always ready to hand me things, like dumbbells and handles and stuff, although he does take care not to touch my hands more than was necessary.

During the first session with him, he taught me this abs exercise where I lie flat on my back while he stands just above my head. I grab onto his ankles and lift both my legs up to his face. He wards off my feet with a gentle push to the toes and I lower my legs. Repeat three sets, 15 times each set. (We’re going up to 20 next week.)

What got me was how he offered both his hands to me to help me up and with such a sweet, shy look in his eyes. As he looked into mine.

Now, there are two guys who make my knees go weak.

My plan is this: I offer to bear a child for GS. He will not be obliged to support the child. He will have visitation rights but in no case will the child be allowed to learn that he (GS) is the father, until the child becomes old enough to understand. (At age 40, perhaps?) And GS will not be introduced to my family.

I’m hoping he consents. S will be leaving for abroad soon to work and GS will be left behind to run the gym. I’m hoping he makes a move then.