So here’s something you may or may not know about me. I despise children. Like I actually hate them. Like, I hate them. Children revolt me. Am I being too harsh? Maybe! But ugh. Yuck. They’re nasty, manipulative, mean, arrogant little almost humans. They have no empathy. They’re selfish and cruel. And annoying. And society expects me to force one out of my vag? Uh, let me think about th-NO.
I am that girl. That girl who says I WILL NEVER GET MARRIED AND NEVER HAVE CHILDREN HELL CAN FREEZE THE FUCK OVER BUT I STILL WONT BUDGE.
Or at least, I was.
Here’s a life tip for teenagers and young adults alike. Make no declarations before you turn twenty. Like, don’t go around telling people your aspirations or beliefs, because they will probably change and you will look like an idiot. By all means, have your ambitions and beliefs and some idea of what you want your future to be like, but don’t go yelling it from the rooftops maybe. Mmkay?
I used to profess to anyone who cared that marriage and kids was absolutely not something I wanted. I’m too selfish, I would say, to dedicate my life to anyone else’s. I want a career and I want to travel and live my life on my terms alone. No limitations, no compromises. That’s it. The end.
Fats forward several years, and…
Marriage doesn’t seem that bad really…
I mean yes it’s a flawed institution and yes there are some serious cultural, social and political changes that need to be made to fix it, but my inner romantic is not immune to the thought of being in a committed relationship, and being able to celebrate that relationship with the people you care about, and having the security of loving and being loved. It’s mushy as hell, but nice. You know. It’s just nice.
Something to aspire to? No, I’m not quite there yet. But something to think about and get the fuzzy feels over?
Oh shush it. I’m allowed to be a romantic if I want to be.
Of course, there’s the obvious problem of my FOREVER ALONE status that casts a largish question mark over my imaginary future wedding. And I guess the one good thing about being a grumpy cynical bitch who didn’t believe in marriage or childbirth was that I was immune from feeling too bad about being nearly twenty and perpetually single.
I still don’t want kids, but it’s not so much a violent impossibility as it used to be. God damn it. I’m getting old.
Speaking of getting old, I’ll be twenty in a month! Crazy huh. Twenty years old. Gosh that happened quickly. I can’t help but feel as though I failed spectacularly at being a child and a teenager. Always in a hurry to grow up it would seem. Well, I’m doing okay as a grown up. I like being a grown up. But even so. The impending birthday and subsequent loss of my claim to “teen” is making me a little nervous.
Cia lovies. Talk again soon!