Do all financial planners inspect your ovaries?

I’m lucky.  My mom has never been the type to do the annoying, “So you seeing anyone?  You gonna get married?  I’d loooove to have grandbabies someday….” [voice trailing off in a passive aggressive way]

You know, the questions one inevitably gets asked over the course of his/her single-dom.  From relatives, friends, coworkers, your hair stylist, the CTA booth guy at the Addison El stop —

  • Have you kissed yet?
  • Have you had the “I’m not seeing anyone else, are you?” discussion?
  • Have you made it past the three month mark?
  • Have you said “I love you”?  Who said it first?
  • Have you slept over?
  • Have you slept together?
  • Have you met his family?  Has he met yours?
  • Have you farted in front of him?
  • Have you cried in front of him?
  • Have you gone on vacation together?
  • Are you going to move in together?
Today I coalesced with a financial planner.  Pre-meeting, I assumed he’d have me squirming, but because of my sad 401(K) and my confusing NASDAQ for a candy-bar name.  I did not expect to spend a portion of our sixty-minutes together emitting nervous squeaks because I wasn’t sure how to answer relationship inquiries.

Financial Planner: You’re dating someone?

Me: Mm hmm.

So, how’s that going?

Great, really good.

Yea?  How long has it been?

Almost two years.

Ya think… Are you heading…  So… [raised eyebrows]  Do you think you’ll get married?


[chuckle] Ok.  What’s your housing status?  Rent?  Own?

Rent.  Neither of us have an urge to buy. [bracing self for rent vs. own lecture]

Good, good.  I rent too.  [surprise!] I think that’s a good decision.  For metropolitan dwellers, just makes sense. [listed cons of owning]  And kids, what about kids?

Ick. [squeak] [oops – reminded myself that not everyone shudders upon seeing couples with babies.  and toddlers.  and tweens.  and teens.]  I mean, not any time soon.  I’m selfish with my time and money, I just want to spend it on us.  [almost referred him to this blog post on how I think my womb? my eggs? my ovaries? are on indefinite vacation in Nigeria or Brooklyn or Schaumburg, but the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his two year old, the way he tried to convince me that parenthood is “the best thing ever,” I just smiled.]  Maybe.  Down the road.

That’s it.  I have no poetic wrap-up or insightful insight.  Just caught me off-guard.  I’m not a nervous-squeaker, so the number of high-pitched noises that escaped my body today has me a bit unnerved.