Caught speeding? Yeah. Getting divorced? Yeah. Annorexia? Yeah. Childbirth? Ah...now....difficult to cheat that one. And that's my gripe. I've never given birth. I'm not part of the parenting club. I don't have childbirth, breastfeeding, school run anecdotes. What's more I don't understand the lure of the procreation gene. And it makes me feel alienated. I really resent children. They've put my friendships with their parents in jeopardy. In the same way at school, when you believed your mates who said they never revised, so you believe those who said they'd never have kids. But they did. Everyone of them. Even those who held out to the final hurdle, would, in their fortieth year, grab the first unsuspecting male, throw the Microgynon 30 out the window and be in full bloom of motherhood before the biological tick....tocked! With each of my pregnant friends, I tippex them out of my life for 18 years. Come back when I'm not competing for your attention. When your priorities are mine and not childminding, schools, ceasarian marks etc. | "With each of my pregnant friends, I tippex them out of my life for 18 years. Come back when I'm not competing for your attention. " | |
In the old days, blokes were child free areas. Now they wander aimlessly about with a papoose or similar child-carrying contraption slung around their necks. To the child free this is as good as wearing a sign with "I'm now up to my neck in nappies" tattooed on their sexless foreheads. Every celebrity questionnaire includes "What makes you happy?" Every celebrity answers, "Being with my children" Really? How boring! What about making loads of money or wearing Chloe clothes or being with my lover? Being with my lover makes me very happy. The only problem is that he has an ex wife. He also has a ten year old son. I can deal with the wife. She's no threat. The son is. He takes priority. The divorcees' flat set up in central London has a bedroom just for him. Our weekends revolve around him. His sleepovers, his football, his "quality time". He keeps my lover young. They discuss bands, telly, movies I've yet to discover.
His dad has an extended social circle simply by waiting at the school gate. He also has a head to ruffle and a non stop supply of unconditional love. When he and I row I phone my long suffering girlfriend. He kicks a ball around with his son and they end the evening bonding over fastfood and DVDs. There are benefits. He hides chocolate on the top shelf, he folds the towels left on the bathroom floor. He behaves like a dad. And maybe the fault lies with me. I still behave like a child. I'm jealous of his child and of the history between the three of them. The anxious early years of childrearing. I can't compete. I can't contribute. I've never been there. I don't want any child whether it's mine or someone else's to steal any part of my life. My closest friend, an ex topless dancer has just become a grandmother at the age of 45. She is ecstatic. I'm speechless. It means just after winning my child-rearing friends back, I'm about to lose them all over again. January, 2006 | 
