Professor Twatface And The Farmhouse

''There's nothing wrong with me getting a little drunk and looking on Match.Com just to see who's out there. I wasn't going to actually pursue anyone anyway, I am just curious for the the future. Besides, there aren't many attractive women around here, it is slim-pickings. You'll probably end up with someone great, like Professor Twatface. He will have some amazing vocabulary, and wear a cardigan with patches on the elbows, and Birkenstocks, and carry a satchel. I bet he'll even drive a Prius. You can wear your Birkenstocks together and sit around analyzing books.''

I have to hand it to my husband, he is brutally honest. While he calls my fictious future boyfriend Professor Twatface, I call his fictious future girlfriend Sally. Ironically enough, I, too, carry a sachel and have always wanted a cardigan with patches on the elbow, but I didn't remind him of that.

''I want it in our paperwork that ''Mommy's friend'', Professor Twatface, won't be over when you have the children. I don't want them getting confused.''

I assured him that
A) There will not be a Professor Twatface for a very long time and
B) If and when there is, I would see him on my off-days and when the time was right, I would gradually introduce him to the children.

I was fortunate enough to have a great stepfather, who married my mother when I was 8 years old. He  treated me like a daughter, and we have many fond memories together. I still remembering my Dad dropping by sometimes and my stepfather saying, ''Why don't you stay for dinner?''. My parents, biological and step, always had a good relationship, they were always very friendly with one another. There was no animosity between them, ever. For me, the stepparent relationship was positive, so I am un-phased. My husband, however, has parents who have been married for 40 years, so the idea of a stepparent is a foreign concept to him. I can understand his reservations.

''You know, if Sally was really nice and enjoyed spending time with our children, I wouldn't mind in the slightest. In fact, I think it is good for children to have as many positive, loving role models as possible.''

Knowing me, I would probably even become friends with Sally.

The thought of another woman near my kids this time last year when I was fighting for my life horrified me, because I thought of them never remembering me, and only knowing her as their mother. But now, being ''No Evidence of Disease'', the thought of them having a stepmother doesn't really bother me, because I will be their Mama no matter what. I guess in that regard, it took cancer to shake me up to realize that.

Once I heard that, a few days later out of sheer interest, I, too, went on Match.Com, just to check it out. For future reference. I wasn't drunk, though. I did it stone-cold sober, and it felt really weird.

I looked in the 35-45 year old range. How do I put this?

Looks do not matter to me, honestly. But most of these men just looked old, or were significantly balding, or overweight. I don't mean slight, receding hairline balding. I mean legit baldness, and I don't mean a cute, squishy bit to squeeze, I mean borderline obese.

Yikes. I mean, yikes.

I am not unaccustomed to slightly older men; the three serious boyfriends I had before I got married were all born in the 70's; 1978, 1978, and 1976. I was born in 1983. The one born in 1976 I  nearly married, we lived together in the house mentioned in the ''Hackey Sack Days''. Despite being 7 years older than me, he was innocently child-like, still having Star Wars sheets on his twin bed when I met him when he was 27 years old. I guess when you are in your early 20's and they are in their late 20's, they do not look much older than you. I guess it's that 30's-40's range is when age really starts showing on people.

My husband is less than a year older than me, and we both look young for our age. Or at least I did, before chemo aged me. So I suppose that I have a false reality of what most men in the 35-45 year old range actually look like. Unlike my husband, who makes it a point of innocently noticing other women from time to time, I have never really bothered looking at other men for the past 12 years so I am rather oblivious as to the normal aging process that occurs with men this age.

There was only one profile picture that even remotely appealed to me, so I clicked on it and laughed and laughed when I read his bio.

''Just because I am an English Professor doesn't mean I will be correcting your grammar all of the time.'' 

Ha! He is an English Professor. Now that is hysterical. Even my husband would laugh at that.

What I liked about him most was that he mentioned writing a memoir about his time growing up in a group home. I think for now on, any future suitor will have to have some kind of fucked up backstory. Anyone who has lived some charmed life with no idea of what it is to suffer does not appeal to me, because we would never be able to connect. And anytime he inevitably complains about trivial bullshit I will secretly want to throat-punch him. And I want to love Mr. Wonderful, not fantasize about throat-punching him because he is a little ninny.

Now I can't even remember vaguely what he looks like, his name, or anything, because I have no intention of pursuing him in the future, even when I am legally single again.

There was another guy, 42 with four kids. Initially I was like, ''Four kids? Holy crap''. But then I thought that I wouldn't want someone to judge me because I have 3 kids, and actually I think I would enjoy being a stepmother, assuming that their Mama isn't bat-shit crazy. And having 7 kids together at once would probably be great fun. Plus, most guys with their own kids don't want anymore kids, which is nice and gets the pressure off of me. As much as I just love the idea of having my poor lady bits sewed back together for a fourth time (The last time was totally unmedicated, with two Tylenol afterward. That was fun!) I wouldn't entertain the idea of having another baby unless Mr. Wonderful desperately wanted a child of his own, in which case I would try to get my chemo-addled body to create one more baby. And at least we'd have a lot of fun trying! Other than that, I am totally ready for the ''going out to dinner, movies, drinks, dancing, speakeasies, hiking, spontaneous weekend road trips, laying in bed together for hours on end without a crying baby with a shitty diaper'' phase of my life to begin.

But at least it is promising that in a sea of aging, balding, greying, overweight men, maybe there is one that is physically appealing to me. Because even though chemistry isn't everything, if you are not attracted to someone then trying to achieve chemistry is a moot point.

Anyway, it sure made me feel better about myself, since I have serious, serious insecurities about my post-baby, post-cancer body. I would be like a goddamn supermodel for some of these dudes, and that's not saying much.

On the other hand, my husband would no problem finding Sally, what with his young looks, full head of hair, slim physique, and British accent. I am sure multiple Sallys will be lining up around the block.

Now just like he and I were looking on Match.Com for future reference even though neither of us are obviously ready to date other people, I have also been looking at houses in my price range, even though I am not ready to buy one yet.

I found a charming restored farmhouse 9 miles away, with the childen's school right in between our house and the farmhouse. It is 96 years old (I have always dreamed of living in an old house), and has new everything; HVAC, windows, carpeting, wood floors, kitchen, bathroom. Every room has an old, defunct brick fireplace, and it sits on nearly 2 acres, with 3 out-buildings. I could build a huge run for Poe, create a large garden to grow our own food, and the kids would have a ball building tree houses and skateboard ramps and all sorts of things. There is a long driveway with rose bushes all around, and a large front porch, big enough for 2 rocking chairs and a swing bench. It even has a new metal roof, and in case you have never fallen asleep to rain hitting a metal roof, it is heavenly.

I actually showed my husband a picture of the house, and said I looked at it personally. I was worried what he might say, like it was becoming real now. Instead he said, ''That driveway would look great with some pea gravel. I could probably get a couple of those old fireplaces working again, too. And I bet you could turn one of those outbuildings into a huge dog house for Poe!''.

I have learned in life, sometimes the greatest act of love is putting someone else's happiness before your own, even if that means letting them go.

 Ironically the person teaching me that lesson is my husband, the very person I plan on leaving.

I am lucky to have had so many years with someone like him, even if we have outgrown one another. I am thankful for the love he has given me, even if it isn't the kind of love that I need anymore.

So even though I am not ready to buy a house, at least I know that one I will love might be out there when I am ready.

Kind of like Professor Twatface.