I'm pro choice

There are some things that can't be avoided.  Yet there are many situations where the choice is ours to make.   
I had intended to start this post out with a quote by a famous 20th Century poet.  The quote itself is excellent and to the point, but the poet and her life is a different story entirely.  I like words, almost as much as I like music.  Words are powerful.  It may not be true that the pen is mightier than the sword, but for certain they both can be just as effective. 

Adrienne Rich, now a renown lesbian movement phenom, had many choices to make.  According to an Internet biography, she is the daughter of Arnold Rice Rich who was a professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins Medical School.  Born around the 1930's, her feminism had many obstacles to overcome before it became full swing.  For one, her father was hoping to groom her to be a pathologist or something similar to his own profession.  Her second "obstacle",was her family's Christian values and beliefs concerning matters of the home.  Which (according to her own words) led her to believe that she needed to marry to become a more acceptable and successful woman in the world.
"I married in part because I knew no better way to disconnect from my first family [...] I wanted what I saw as a full woman's life, whatever was possible."
 Marrying didn't hold her back much from her mission of self discovery and pushing the limits of society through her written words.  In the meantime, she gave birth three times to boys.  But the mother of three sons kept digging and chipping away through any means that she could muster.  Adrienne was said to be an extremist in the anti-war effort during Vietnam.  Her home was used as a gathering place for many Black Panther meetings.  While she fought all these grand battles against "The Man" and the system, her husband was losing his mind,; believing that she had lost hers already.  Alfred Conrad finally was divorced from her in the 70's, which became his final trigger to take his own life soon after. 
Adrienne continues her life and sexual exploration seemingly not mourning her late husband as any form of loss.  Her success continues to this day through her many published works.

This story makes me sick to my stomach.  Not because she's a lesbian now, or because she was a pillar in the feminism movement; but for her lack of concern for anyone around her.  I understand that some people will read about her life and become inspired to break free of their own chains that hold them back, but I see something different. 
I see myself. 

I've never seen the movie Brokeback Mountain, but I have been tempted to - just from curiosity.   From what I've heard of the movie and seen in the trailers, these two men who find love in their eyes for each other, both have wives waiting at home for them...trusting them to be the faithful men that they promised to be.  To me, that doesn't make for an entertaining movie.
The whole idea of branching out and "finding yourself" is very popular today, and for good reason.  It's powerful.  It's self indulgent nature, to run away as far as you need to go and to push as hard as you need to push and trample down the ones who deserve to be trampled because they got in your way of finding your happily ever after, is very appealing.    It's compelling and attractive ....until you open your eyes and become resensitized to the lives that you've hurt in the name of "I".   

I visited another church this past Sunday.  It was a small congregation full of younger attractive men and women.  There was only one person that came to say "hello".  When she introduced herself, I was preoccupied thinking about my sticky hands from my kids donuts that they had grabbed before the service, that I didn't hear her name.  It was a casual conversation and I honestly didn't feel much about it, even after realizing how beautiful the woman was sitting next to me.  Everyone has a "type" and she fit the description for mine; I knew it and brushed it aside.  Before I excused myself to the bathroom to wash off the mess still on my fingers, I thought to ask for her name again.  I hesitated because for a split second, I was unsure of "why" I wanted to know.  So I walked away...  Later that morning, she was in my line of sight again, and I experienced what men would refer to as a "turn on" or in the world of Wayne (aka Wayne's World), a "shwing".  This happens a lot when I'm around attractive ladies, and I feel awkward and ashamed every time.  I cannot deny that I like feeling that way though.  That kind of physical stimuli is important to me.  Is it important enough to act on it and leave my family in the dust just to experience more?  Absolutely not!  
But that is MY choice.