“Don’t Make Any Babies”

Quick note: No, I didn’t make a birthday post this year because my birthday was terrible. I don’t want to talk about it.

I don’t want to be a parent, but I feel like the “scare her out of pregnancy” tactic is getting old.

I’m 25. I’m in no financial place to have a child, but were that and my lack of desire not issues, I don’t think I’d be terrible if I chose to be a parent. The matter with my family is neither of those things are why they still tell me “don’t make any babies”. The reason is they believe it’s impossible to have a romantic relationship without having kids.

What’s most annoying is this often comes from my grandfather: a lifelong addict and marriage-long cheater who had kids with his affair, and went on to cheat on her. Of all the people to try to give me any kind of life advice, he is the most unqualified. This is the same person who didn’t want me around my friends’ brothers or fathers if they happened to be present when I visited. I genuinely feel it’s a kind of projection for him. He assumes every man is unfaithful and thoughtless because he is, and he has no remorse for it (he calls it “satisfying his needs”). My father and my uncle aren’t unfaithful, but they’re also not much better when it comes to relationships. One thinks it’s the girlfriend’s or wife’s job to take care of 90% of the household and bills, and the other thinks women are too complicated and tricky (but also refuses have any male friends; figure that one out).

I’m not claiming to have everything figured out, but I don’t think any of them can lecture me on relationships, let alone the choice to be a parent outside of common sense. Unfortunately, my family’s history only backs them up. Every parent I know within my close family had their child with someone who left them, even if they have more than one kid with the same man (in that scenario, the other kid(s) is the result of the couple getting back together for a few months, only to break up again). Obviously, I don’t know the details of all of their situations, but I despise it’s ultimately held up against me about why parenthood is terrible. Really, it has nothing to do with parenthood. Outside of unfortunate circumstances, they suck at choosing partners.

It’s weird to me they still feel the need to talk to me about “having babies” like I’m still 15. And even then, I thought it was ridiculous. I didn’t have any interest in dating until I was 19 anyway, but the automatic assumption I would’ve been a teen parent if I did annoys me beyond comprehension. At 25, my immediate family still acts like I’ll become pregnant if I so much as breathe on a man. I really wish that was an exaggeration. If I really wanted to become pregnant against all logic, I would’ve done it by now. Their scare tactics really didn’t work when I was a teenager either. I knew from a young age – about nine or so – children were a huge responsibility, and I only saw more and more of how huge when I became a teen and learned about pregnancy and childbirth. That’s the one good thing that came out of being an older sibling: taking care of my sister was more than enough for me to realize I don’t want to do it voluntarily. For the same reason, it’s probably not surprising if I wanted to be a parent, I’d be “one and done”. To this day, I envy only children. And no, siblings don’t prevent loneliness. Outside of school, where my friends were, I was always lonely. You can be lonely with other people around. “Lonely” and “alone” are not interchangeable.

Since I haven’t “made any babies”, my family assumes their scare tactics work, and I don’t think it’s worth it to tell them they’re wrong. Part of me wishes I could prove them wrong – that it’s possible to be a parent in a committed, healthy relationship and raise kids as a couple – but aside from being a terrible reason to have kids, I doubt they would change their minds. They are stubborn (not hard to see where mine was inherited from), and I’d rather not spend my life fighting to prove them wrong. Some people are motivated by that idea. I find it tiring.

Game Over

Let’s run down the list of men I’ve had the pleasure of meeting from OKC. None will be named.

  • Three who I met once and never heard from again, one of whom I had a very unpleasant experience with and I will never engage in that particular activity.
  • One who wanted me for literally nothing more than sex, the one who I cut off, reconciled with months later, and was dumped by for being too nervous and twitchy.
  • One who I had a one month long relationship with that he ended because he wanted to solely focus on school.
  • One who I never met in person because it seemed there was never a good time, and arranging even one meet-up for a day was apparently complicated.
  • Finally, one who I’ve been seeing regularly since March and still am. I’ll talk more about him later.

Now, I won’t pretend I didn’t get good times out of the ones in the middle. When the problems were aside for a while, I genuinely was glad to know them and have them in my life for the period of time they were. However, all of the above, with the exception of the last one, brings me to this conclusion: Dating sucks!

I would not repeat any of those experiences if I had the chance, but the upside of having them is I’ve learned a couple of things from each. Really, the unpleasant activity I mentioned probably had the strongest lesson, which was do not let your curiosity get the better of you! That’s literally the only reason I did it. Yes, stupid, I know.

I’m glad I waited until I was an adult to jump into this game, however. I really can’t say any of these are experiences I would’ve wanted to have when I was still in my teens, even if I was 16 or 17. While I don’t believe I would’ve been more easily influenced, I do believe they would’ve had a greater negative impact than they did. Not to mention I would’ve given up much sooner and probably wouldn’t have met who I’m with now due to age difference (18yrs w/ 16yrs = jail time!). Sure, I wouldn’t have known him, but since I do, I’m happy I stayed out of the game until later.

A Bad End

I haven’t posted much, obviously. That’s due to a combination of not knowing what to post about and being depressed lately. 2014 ends in two weeks. I’m very glad because this year has sucked.

  • I dropped out of school because I couldn’t handle the stress or keep up with the work.
  • I had a one-month relationship. One freaking month.
  • I’m horrible with this dating thing. I’ve learned that well.
  • I gave oral sex to a guy and it was one of the worst things I’ve ever done. That’s the last time I let my curiosity get the better of me.
  • Sunny is ill, possibly fatally ill. He’s alright for the time being, but there’s no telling how long that will last.
  • I am still unemployed and it’s becoming harder and harder not to get discouraged.
  • I had to leave a forum I was a part of and enjoyed because I made one very stupid slip-up.
  • I was dumped for having anxiety.
  • Just all around feeling awful and regretting a lot of things.

If Sunny dies, I’m not looking for anyone else because I’ve had it. I know one year is very soon to be giving up, but I cannot do this over and over. I admire the people who can, but I can’t. I cannot go through five, ten, twenty, or however many years of breakups and disappointment until I find a relationship that lasts. I’d rather get pets and be happy like that.

The only good things that came out of this year are some movies I got see, a new obsession, my iPad, and time spent with my best friend.

Things I Will Never Do

In eight months, I will be 21 years old. I can hardly believe it. I still remember being five years old and thinking of how long it would take me to get up here. It did take longer, but I miss being smaller. At least then, I could be picked up and carried. The only reason I hate being carried is I’m too big.

Regardless of how old I get, however, there are some things I have sworn to never do in my life, no matter how bad it gets or how I bored I get. Note that I have no general negative opinion of people who choose to do and enjoy these things. I’m simply choosing not to.

  • Drugs. That means alcohol, marijuana, tobacco, and whatever else falls under that list that won’t be used for a medical reason. I’ve had enough alcohol and cigarettes in my life. Heck, I live with a smoker! When I finally have my own place, no smoking will be permitted at all. Absolutely zero!
  • Clubbing/Wild parties. I’d rather give myself a concussion than ever do either of these. I hate loud noise, I hate crowds, I hate flashiness, and I hate dancing. Plus, these events are notorious for having people who spike your drink. Any place where I have to worry about someone drugging me is out of the question. No exceptions.
  • Casual sex. This is if I ever have sex at all. But even if I were not an ace, I’d never have a sexual casual relationship, regardless of how much I trusted that person. Sex is not something I ever want to think of the way I think about what I’m having for dinner.
  • Anything I know is dangerous. I don’t care if you only live once. I’m not going to do something I know is guaranteed to get me killed if I go ahead with it. That means things like skydiving and such. I know safety is taken into consideration with stunts like that, but frankly, I’m not willing to risk my life for a thrill.
  • Try to keep up with the latest fads. While I like my electronics and whatnot, the truth is I couldn’t care less about keeping up with the newest device. If I genuinely wanted a new one, I might go for the latest, but if the one I currently have is working absolutely fine, I’m not going to run out and grab another just because it’s newer.
  • Buy new things just for the sake of having new stuff. This applies to clothing. While I will buy something here and there, I will never toss out my whole wardrobe and buy a new one because it’s old or out of style. Really, I’ve never cared for fashion trends. If the clothes still fit and aren’t torn, there’s no reason to throw them out.
  • Fight. I have been a pacifist since I was in my early teens. The only fighting I like is play-fighting, and even that, I tire of quickly.
  • Own a weapon. In regards to violence, the only thing I hate more than fighting are weapons. Particularly guns, but not only them. They’re also not going to be allowed in my house when I’m on my own (not that my relatives I live with have any). I don’t care how properly handled they are. If it’s something typically used for killing, get it away from me!

I Miss Him…

I hate to say it, but I really do miss Emmi.

That’s why I haven’t posted much. I’m not going to call him, but I admit there’s not a day that’s gone by when I consider going back on what I said.

It’s more that I miss talking to him, really. Sex-obsessed or not, he was genuinely a nice person and I really liked talking to him. He listened to me and he did understand some of my troubles. He even comforted me a few nights when I was struggling and thinking of hurting myself. It was nice to have someone I could vent to and basically respond with “I get it” instead of some lecture about how it gets better. Not that I don’t appreciate the latter, but it does get annoying at times.

I’m not horribly upset, but I guess the reason I wish I could go back is that sex was literally the only issue.

But I’m probably seeing something that’s not there. For all I know, there may have been an issue besides sex and I’m probably fantasizing too much. As much as it kills me to admit it, I still like him.

*sigh* Is this going to happen with any person I may become interested in? I probably sounded like a hormone-addled teenager, but I don’t think I can do this so many times. It hurts. Not terribly, not even awfully, but it does.

Yep, I may have to do this…