I am a last born. I never really got a vote in the matter. As usual, my three other brothers were ahead of me, slipping through the tunnel of love in the seven years prior to my arrival in the parking lot of McLendon’s Hardware in Renton.
For you Rentonites, you’ll remember this is where all the children of the corn, sorry, city, came from, the old Renton General/Valley General Hospital, just a stone’s throw from the Loop.
As the last born, I became pretty used to not having any choices; my older brothers always voicing their opinions as to what we should have for dinner, who should get the last cupcake for dessert and where we should go on vacation.
Me, I just followed along. I guess that’s what last borns do. It wasn’t until I was much older that I discovered what being a first born was like, but only through the osmosis of my epic relationships.
I seem to be inexplicably drawn to first borns. It’s not like I know these people are first born in the beginning. I mean, you usually don’t cover that kind of ground on a first, second or even fifth date. Sure, you may ask if your future ex-wife has any siblings, but you don’t usually prod further, asking where she fits into the birth order scheme.
It’s only later that I have found their position out, and almost to an ex, they have all been first borns.
I am not really sure why. Well, at least I never used to be sure. I think over the years I have come to realize that I am attracted to strong women. I can blame this on the fact that I grew up in a matriarchy, my mother being the head of household since my father was ill for much of my years growing up in Renton years.
Like a horse to water I am drawn uncontrollably to them. I simply can’t help myself. Before you get all Oedipus on me, it’s not about my mother. At least I don’t think it is. It just seems that most strong women are the first born in their family.
I think it’s pretty funny that this is so. The Janmeister is first born as well, so my record seems to be intact. If I recall, and I can only count real relationships here not casual dating situations, the only woman I had a relationship with who wasn’t first born was my first ex, or X1 as she is known.
She was second born, a middle child. I don’t really know what a middle child is like. All I know is that in my own family, Brian was the milquetoast member of our quartet, an underachiever who my mother couldn’t always remember the name of. He was just referred to him as Jon-Jeff-Brian-Robert-Jock, the last being the name of our dog. It was the catchall my mother used when trying to call one of us. Rather than chance missing the one she really wanted, she would just call us all at once. No wonder I’ve been in therapy over the years.
I know that some people don’t believe in the whole birth order thing anymore than they believe in being a Gemini or a Sagittarius. But I have had some experience with this (some would say more than necessary), and I have discovered that there are some basic traits that bear out with first borns, and for the most part, these are the things that attract me to them, even if they are complete strangers to me, sitting in a bar, looking forlorn and alone, hungry for male companionship.
First borns tend to be natural leaders. They are conscientious, reliable, a bit of a perfectionist. Most of the ones I know have been people pleasers as well, though I have had one or that’s who have proven to be the passive-aggressive type (can you say Psycho or Diablo?). They can also be a bit of a control freak, given that they popped out of the love chute with no one to compete with for attention, affection or possessions.
Now for me. Last borns are mostly financially irresponsible, at least compared to the other birth orders. Me. They are social and outgoing. Me. They just want to have a good time, be in the limelight and tend to be very charming. Me, me, me. No, that’s not a nod of agreement with the previous statement. Last borns can also be spoiled and can be a bit manipulative, which I certainly was in my younger days, hence the me, me, me!
As you can see, a match made in heaven. First borns can lather on the attention and have no problem letting me be in the limelight, unless they are reporters with megalomania, but why go there? They like to be in control, and since last borns aren’t used to making decisions because they were never given the chance, that’s just fine, too.
Well, almost fine. Eventually the limelight-loving last born wants to make a decision or two. It starts innocently enough. After five years together, the first born finds out that the last born never liked peas or pork chops. Sure, you may have eaten them at least three times a month for the last five years, but it’s only because you were last born, not because you’re fond of them.
Given that you can be a bit spoiled, you pipe up one day. The first born feels horrible about it, but she likes pork chops and peas, so that’s why they’ve ended up on the dinner table all this time. She asks you what you would like to have instead.
As the last born, you sit there, frozen. No one may have ever asked before. You ponder for a moment, think of all the possibilities that are suddenly open to you, and you finally get up the gumption to say, “Whatever you want to make is good with me, honey. I don’t really have a favorite.”
The following week, lo and behold, you get pork chops and peas again, only this time one is almost raw, the other totally overcooked, just to remind you that having an opinion and making a decision can have serious repercussions.
Ah the wonders of being first and last and in love.
In the Emerald City, wondering what’s for dinner tonight,
– Robb