Let me guess. You and your partner have been together a few years and you are both feeling optimistic. You enjoy a dual-income lifestyle and healthy savings account. One day, you’re walking through the mall, holding hands, and breathe in a certain amount of mutual adoration.
You smile at each other and say, “How can we fuck this up?”
You’re bored and restless and think it’ll be great fun to get knocked up, but I’m asking you to rethink this whole baby thing.
Most of you should not breed. Not you, with the pierced eyebrow and low self-esteem. Not you, with anger-management issues. Not even you with the gold cross around your neck and thinly-veiled superiority complex.
I don’t care how good he looks in shorts, you and your mate will not stay together; you do not share the same values. He will get tired of fucking you and you will get tired of his bad breath. Procreating is a bad idea. Let’s face it, your mother was right.
Most of you can’t even agree on what to name your little nightmares. How are you going to tackle teething and potty training?
Think about all you are giving up.
A tight vagina.
Clothing-optional protest rallies.
A fully-functioning frontal lobe.
Naked chat rooms.
Recreational drug use.
If you think that you can still have all these things, even with kids, then I really don’t want you to reproduce.
And that’s not all.
After having children, you will no longer be able to:
Hear yourself think.
Earn enough to support everyone and your gambling habit.
Arrive anywhere on time.
Speak intelligently because it’s all about THE BABY.
Act all detached, cyncial, and cool because…you know we can totally see all those baby pictures you’re posting, right?
Find anything at all in that purse.
Eat your own meal without first cutting up someone else’s.
Touch your nose to your knees.
Open bank statements without a) drinking, b) cursing, or c) praying.
Sure, with a child you get to fart in public and blame it on someone else, but you can do that now. Just take grandma out for hot dogs.
There. Hopefully you have the good sense to stay child-free and fulfilled, happy, and able to save the world without carrying a year’s supply of Benadryl and five different kiddie-sized barf bags in your purse.
To those of you with half a brain, turn off your computer or put down your phone and enjoy that bong hit!
To the rest, onward.