The last of my childless friends who I’ve remained close to through our university years just told me she was pregnant. Seriously, of six women that I am close to, I’m the only one that’s childless and single. I kind of feel a little left out and weird…I mean it’s just down right creepy that where ever we go I just seem to be some lady without a kid hanging around other people’s kids. I can see the fear in some other mom’s eyes as they wait for me to snatch their snot-nosed brat and run off with them. But…
Let’s face the facts, people: I am not ready to raise a child. My parents are still raising me for craps sakes. Just the other night I was standing outside of my moms bedroom door at All The Normal People In the House Are Asleep O’Clock, like I have a squillion times growing up. Yes, I woke her up and yes, I made her take care of me. I am for sure not ready for a kit of my own. Nor have I ever been ready for one.
For nearly 8 years I have practiced all manners of “safe sex” and taken plenty of baby preventative measures. I do all the stuff that anyone with a little bit of sense would know how to do: I use condoms. I’m on birth control. Oh, but wait! I’m human…sometimes I forget to use condoms. Or just don’t use them. Or sometimes I turn them into condom trees which make lovely gifts when given at appropriate times. Which is always, in my books.
Because normal safe sex practices sometimes break down (I forget to take a pill, condom breaks, all the condoms have been turned into a lovely tree…) I’ve come up with other creative ways to prevent my belly from swelling with child.
As a rule I refuse to go near any fertility idols. All fertility symbols must stay at least a good slapping distance away from me.
I’ve written down every reason why I think I’d be a bad mother and why I don’t want children on little pieces of paper and burned them so that the message would go out into the universe and hopefully Someone out there would totally get the message and protect me from even the most Super of the Super Sperms.
I’ve imagined playing that Asteroids game with any unwelcome sperm. In my mind I was in this poorly animated, but totally genius for it’s time space ship thinger PEW PEW PEW‘ing anything that might dare to make a break for my egg and shouting bad Arnold Schwarzenegger cliches at them.
Once I remembered that if you put cola or pop up there that it would kill the majority of the sperm…I got as far as grabbing a can of Pepsi but I wound up back in bed drinking my Pepsi and watching Gilmore Girls and vowing to myself to always use a condom after that to save myself the worry in the future…
Except that never happened.
So for a while I abstained…and abstained. But that got boring before I made it a full year of that crap. But…
Admittedly, that one seemed to work the best. Not gonna lie to you here, kids: Abstinence is the best form of preventing pregnancy. Unfortunately for me I happen to be 25 years old and am a total horn dog, so denying special and carefully chosen people the use of my cooter just don’t fly round here.
I looked up foods online that could help prevent pregnancies.
A friend held a No Baby Ceremony for me in her backyard. She built a small fire and we danced around it all night long while drinking Fireball, eating Old Dutch Ketchup Chips and Pizza and making up crazy chants while making offerings to any Anti-Fertility Gods we could think of. Or make up.
Now in recent years with all my friends giving birth, I’ve resorted to a new method of preventing pregnancy:
I get damn worn out even just thinking about baby-sitting just one of their kids for a full day and I go to sleep.