Awkward Questions: Cut Down or Conversation Starter?

I always thought when I got married the awkward questions people ask would stop. I have news single gals: It doesn’t. When I was twenty-three and celebrating Thanksgiving with my clan, Uncle Johnny wanted to know why someone like me didn’t have a boyfriend. “You’ve got to find yourself a potential husband,” he would say in his South Carolina drawl. Never mind, I had just broken up a five-year relationship with my high school sweet heart and wanted to see the world. Traveling didn’t count for anything. So through the years, as a single woman and now married, I’ve had my share of awkward questions and as innocent as they seem, I can’t help but question the motives behind them.

Personally, if I know something is a little awkward I don’t ask it and wonder why others don’t play by the rules. For example, my cousin Mimi and her husband have been married ten years. Kids are not in their future but that doesn’t stop other people asking, “So when are you going to hear the pitter patter of little feet?” “Never,” Mimi says politely, “I can’t have children.” Then there’s the famous question, “When are you having another baby?” This question is usually three months after delivering the first-born or sooner. When I was asked this after being in labor for forty-eight hours I wanted to rip the persons head off.

I think, speaking for myself, that these intrusive questions are secretly interpreted as “You don’t have enough so when are you going to do XYZ”. This is the reason many of us take offense with them. I have started and stopped nursing school twice so when I last saw my step grandmother at the bagel shop and she asked me, “still in school?” I was seething. It some how implied I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to be doing and it ruined my whole morning.  My mother said, “Oh she’s just trying to start a conversation”. How many times have we heard this statement when venting about said awkward question? I know personally that if I think a subject is touchy I avoid it like a rattle snake. Grand Mom could have started a conversation in a number of lovely ways sans the implication of my lack of motivation. It’s a beautiful day. I like your shirt. How is your daughter? Is she doing well in kindergarten? How’s that book coming along? Instead, “Still in school?” As if my work, my writing, my life with hubby and daughter were blazed in neon letters—INCOMPLETE PERSON pending nursing certificate hung on wall.