Where intelligence gives way to madness.
So that nobody is left behind, let’s make sure we’re starting out on equal footing. When a man and a woman love each other very, very much, they plan a trip to the Baby Creation Center where they are given their own personal baby factory to create within. There they can hold hands until their collective love overflows one another’s heart and love storage sacks.
The excess spills from the sacks inside the baby factory to create new life, which can then be collected and later delivered by the stork. And that, my friends, is how a baby is made… I think. Right? Well that’s what we’re going with. Love. Hand holding. Sacks. Baby – Boom, moving on.
NSFW? I’m still a bit foggy.
So when you get that call to tell you the awesome news that your friends are expecting, there is only one response that is appropriate. You act like a white girl on the eve of a gala. You freak out like you get to wear that dress and those shoes you’ve had saved, and you scream “Woooo!” until your vocal chords give out. It’s time to party.
Now as you celebrate your friends unlocking adult achievement trophies, you’ll start getting drunk and begin some self-reflection. All the reality of the situation will begin rolling in on your single self and you will stop forgetting how happy you are for everyone else, as you start to focus on ol’ number one. Brace your drunk self, you’re about to put everything under the microscope and that’s when you arrive to the one logical conclusion. It’s probably about time I got my shit together.
Starting right when the light stops being so loud.
This self-assessment will lead you into a deep, dark place. All the happiness you think you are living in your day to day life will be immediately sucked from existence and you’ll be left in the corner, holding yourself, quite possibly sobbing. That’s when you will start racking your brain trying to think of who is still single and able to procreate. “Are they still available?” you’ll wonder. “Why did we ever break up in the first place?” will run through your mind. It’s the Ghost of Relationships Past knocking on your door, and he’s taking you to Hell.
Since the lack of sobriety in your system is now at the wheel of your thinking machine, you’re going to decide it’s a great idea to text that person from your past. (Warning: It’s not a great idea. It’s a terrible idea. Stop. Seriously. No, fucking stop! DON’T DO IT!) Well, great. Congrats friend. You’ll now wake up the next morning with a date planned with someone you had no business ever being back in touch with and you’re in the absolute worst mindset to see what you’ve done to yourself. But everyone else sees it. Trust me, everyone else does.
After a subsequent parade of failures, the saner side of your brain should resume control. This should allow you to realize that you broke up with her in the first place because she wouldn’t stop stabbing your leg with sharp objects while you slept, and the adorable nature of that eventually wore off.
This is going to leave you back at square one, but reenergized because you remember that you were doing just fine for yourself. You know what? You were doing better than fine. Hell, if you wanted a kid, you could care for a kid – no problem! These thoughts will likely spark your competitive nature, leading to you begging to babysit for family and friends as to prove you’re competent at child care. “Besides,” you’ll remind them, “the water balloon toss contest was years ago. Hand over that little cutie!”
“Come to Pap-ah shit!”
Once you’ve proven to yourself that you can hold a child without destroying it from existence, you will most likely quickly revert back to the self-serving thoughts of, “I am way too young for that anyways!” and begin the second party portion of our adventure. You’ll spend the whole night Gala White Girl jacked to the max, which is going to lead to shots.
Next thing you know, two hours of your life is missing and you come to scrolling through the pages of an adoption website, with a Ukrainian mail order bride site two tabs over. Bad news: You’re totally back in the corner holding yourself again wondering what you’re doing with your life. Good news: You now know you’re 60% of the way registered to having an 8 year old adopted son, Ricardo, and that you have enough for a 20% down payment on Elena.
This family stuff is so easy!
Waking up in the morning and frantically checking your credit card statement for overseas charges will serve as a slap to your noggin from reality. “This is crazy.” You will think. “I can do this the normal way. Maybe it’s just time I give those other methods a shot!” You can meet all of the wonderful people Tinder has to offer, and then make your way over to Match.com and see what’s going on over there too. Couple of clicks, pour your heart into it, and voila! It’s love time.
Form an orderly queue to the left, please.
Boom. You feel that? That’s love momentum, and this train is picking up steam. Next stop, Familysville. Life problems solved!
Or we could just calm down a bit, quit overthinking everything, and just be thrilled that our friend is having a baby. Because, you know, that’s kind of a wonderfully special moment in their lives that we should be able to share in and embrace being a part of with them.
Editor’s Note: Above picture is mandatory when talking about babies.
But if you are in the, “Fuggit, that sounds entirely too rational of a concept” camp and you insist upon going clinically insane over this, just remember the one thing that will help you through everything you’ll have to face going forward.
“CuttyDoesIt4u2” is still available.