I think it’s finally happening. I was working from home today as the snow and freezing rain closed the kids’ schools, and we’re all sitting in our comfy home…the two younger ones are drawing their comics quietly…the oldest is upstairs watching a movie…I had my music on shuffle and it was a pretty good set…tucked into work and actually getting things done…and that’s when it hit me. The bills were pretty much paid, no one was fighting or being annoying, everyone was healthy, and there was not really much to worry about. That’s when my eyes welled up with tears and I’m like, “wtf?!”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m as sappy and smarmy as the next person, maybe even more so. One of my favorite pastimes is to drink a few Guinni, throw on Fields of  Athenry and “sob like a little girl with a skinned knee”, but I’ve noticed a fundamental shift in the way I see the world. It all started with my divorce. She left me (for a felonious tranny that beat the shit out of her no less), and the kids back in 2006. I’ve been raising them on my own with little or no contact (except for the time she cried to me when he/she put her in the hospital) from the ex, their mom for over four years now. One hint was the yearly Myers-Briggs I would take at work. Not the full test, mind you, but a sample of the questions. Like clockwork, I would score an eNTj (the Field Marshal; they did the capitalization thing denoting that I was just barely an “e” and a “j”). Then, after maybe a year after I became a “single mom”, I started scoring “f”s instead of “j”s. This indicates that I went from processing the world around me based on “feelings” rather than “judgement”.

Nope, haven’t gotten tits or a vagina just yet, but I definitely notice that my emotions are much closer to the surface than ever before in my life. And not in a bad way. The ex left years ago, so I can’t attribute it to residual bullshit from that. I really think it’s the MANopause. But I’m only 45?! Aren’t I supposed to be going through a mid-life crisis and buying a sports car or something? What’s next? Will I find solace in my stories? boddice-rippers?…fuck me…TWIGHLIGHT? I still watch football, drink beer, play video games and otherwise function as before, but there’s this added dimension to an otherwise typical, hetro-male perspective.

Well, guess I’ll go get my tissues and watch Steel Magnolias…nahhhh! But I will go and sob a bit when Paul Newman dies in Cool Hand Luke…sniff.


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