Friday, October 23, 2009

babies and booty.

so are dudes doing this now, or have i just run into a random handful of ticking biological clocks? what is UP with dudes and little babyfriends lately?! i have met/dated/talked to a number of dudes over the last few weeks, and pretty much every single one had something to say about his future crumbsnatchers. i told you hoes i was going to give africa another chance and i did, and my busted foot and i dragged our sorry selves out to meet him for drinks. it was RAD. i was a little late and had to sit on a barstool the whole night (i think i speak for every single ass that slides itself into a pair of double-digit jeans when i say FUCK THAT), but otherwise we had a killer time. that dude is fucking SMART, dude, and that's the hottest aphrodisiac in the history of ever. forget oysters and slow jams, i want a motherfucker who can break down thomas aquinas and philippa foot over a high life or twelve. seriously, i was almost outfoxed. and you know for a smartass political bitch such as myself that is quite an accomplishment. it was my first date EVER where some y-chromosome and i got into a heated discussion about the restrictions of a two-party system AND globalization in the same goddamned night. bonus: he didn't sound like a fucking idiot, either. because there are a number of pseudo-intellectual notches in my bedpost, but not a single one of those douchebags really knew what the fuck he was talking about.


i dated this dude briefly once who thought he was wolf blitzer or some shit, and it was a neat-o trick until i asked him to actually substantiate one of his totally ridiculous points of view and he sat gaping at me like a jack-o-lantern with the inside of its head scooped out, unable to come up with anything other than a random soundbite he'd memorized from the news. there are lots of people who just talk and talk and talk about nothing and they drop the occasional 50-cent word while everyone else in the room just sits there staring blankly at them and feeling too dumb to join the discussion because that asshole used the word "gravitas" in a sentence. it happens in class ALL THE TIME. some self-important loudmouth windbag will be droning on and on and on (while being wrong and wrong and more wrong) while everyone else cowers, too afraid to tell him to shut the fuck UP.

so when africa started talking about the free market and shit i almost took my pants off in the middle of the fucking bar. goddammit, a smart one! fuck a love song, fuck a flower bouquet, fuck a heart shaped box of old dry chocolates filled with gooey grossness. NOTHING gets these panties off faster than a dude with a fucking brain rattling around in his head. so i was totally on africa's side. he told me about how he was raised all over europe and went to college in finland and he even tried to teach me about soccer (yawn) and he was funny and so smart (sorry, i had to say it again; smart fellas wind my watch) and personable and nice and he drank cheap beer with me and everything was coming up roses and then he started talking about how he wants four children.

i'm sorry, what? what was that? what did you say?! did you mention babies?!! on the first fucking date??!?!!

i mean REALLY, lovers. how does one go from explaining how the stock market works (sorry, bitches, i don't have a clue) to talking about his future plans for my uterus? this is 100% irritating on SO many levels, the first of which is how a woman would be labeled ten types of crazy if she dared to even make the slightest allusion to marriage and/or family before six months of dating. no, TWO YEARS of dating. and even then dude would probably give her the side eye and start using words like "suffocating" and "controlling" and shit. i don't even think about using the word exclusive until he says it first, and that's usually right around the fucking one year mark. i have been so well-trained by my commitment-allergic manfriends of yore that i never even think about purging my contact list of all my back-burner dicks and tricks. and let's just say i always am happy to have kept it around. (ie, i'm still a spinster.)

i was fucking dumbfounded. so much so that i couldn't do anything but laugh for a good thirty seconds. it's surreal, right? because why would a dude bring that shit up unless he really wanted you to know it was one of his prerequisites? just like how i give an impromptu IQ test the second a dashing young gentleman caller asks me out. if you don't score high, you don't score AT ALL. and it made me feel totally weird to get into my reproductive history (and future) with someone not wearing a white lab coat and swinging a scary-looking speculum. was he really expecting me to talk about my ovaries and cervix and shit in the middle of a bar? while DRUNK?! while i have absolutely no problem talking about how babies get made (yum), it was a little awkward talking about baking one in this old raggedy oven with a veritable stranger.


maybe this is what it's like dating in your 30s? do young men have biological clocks? because africa wasn't the only one, just the most specific. what is up with these newfangled dudes who have their future fatherhood all mapped out in their mind grapes? isn't that for us ladyfolk to do? to hunt and plot and trap you and decide everything that happens in the rest of your life? i thought it was all about how many kids WE want? the type of wedding WE always dreamed of? OUR split-level ranch and white picket fence and golden retriever? what is up with dudes having opinions on girlie shit?
 

it's possible that i am only taken aback and offended by this because my version of the american dream is slightly skewed. i want to write about shit and drink whiskey and meet the love of my life on a hot and sweaty dance floor somewhere. i want to go DO some things. see something awesome really far away. go dancing every night and stay out way too late. grownup stuff. and while i'm not sure where that all really ends up, or who it's going to end up happening with, i'm almost positive it won't be happening after i've put on another forty pounds (jesus christ) and have trouble shoving my bloated hooves into normal shoes.


the craziest part of the whole thing is that i'm contemplating these issues with a dude i've spent forty-two motherfucking minutes with. i have had actual long-term sexual/emotional relationships with men who never broached this subject not even once. not one time. and i'm not even talking about any of those tenderonis i used to creep with back in the day who thought diapers and bottles were "icky." i'm talking real live grownups with checking accounts who took their shirts to the dry cleaners. don't you need to know someone at least a little bit before you decide whether or not to mix your collective DNA?

and my friends have had mixed reactions. some say to give baby daddy the old "stop texting me" speech, while others think i should stick it out in the hopes that he might change his mind. and to that i say, "bitch, is that a joke?" putting the shoe on the other foot, if africa was trying to talk me into letting four terrorists hijack the empty space between my corroded intestines and my curdled liver i would go absolutely apeshit. as would my feminazi ladyfriends.

and i am all about adoption. i have said before, and will say a million more times, that i believe in it with my whole heart, and when i have a little money and a decent credit score i want to go get myself a tiny little crack baby and bake muffins for it and teach it to be awesome. what's super fucking weird is how many dudes are totally against adoption. what the fuck? like it means he has a small penis or something if he's not raising a child of his own. that's totally fucking stupid. africa said to me, and this is almost verbatim give or take the fact that i was super drunk, "why would i adopt? what is the point? if i can't save all children, why save just one?" tell me that's not the dumbest thing you've ever fucking heard. i am still trying to wrap my brain around the twisted logic of it. so i asked him if he voted, and when he said yes i asked, "why? what is the point? millions of people vote, why would your ONE vote count?!" then i called him an arrogant egomaniac (he just kept saying "i don't know if i could love a child that isn't mine" over and over and over again) and we sat there doing that awkward blinking thing until he changed the subject and i thanked my lucky stars my apartment was too dirty to invite him over afterward. poor dude, and the poor women who might fall in love with him. you can NEVER make a dude like that happy, even if you rip your body apart to bear four or more of his spawn. dudes who think that way will never think the house is clean enough or that dinner tastes good enough or that the sex is incredible enough. and why waste my oxygen trying to convince him to change his mind?


isn't this the sort of fundamental thing that once you've decided it doesn't really change? i don't know, but i'm pretty sure that when you know that's a part of your life plan some trollop isn't going to change your mind with her promises of sleeping late and long weekends in jamaica.


okay, so let's say i meet someone fabulous who is willing to trade his dream of a flag football team full of little biologicals for my dream of one or two tiny creatures the stork leaves on our doorstep fully clothed, and maybe already past teething. i mean, come ON. (please find me, someone fabulous. i've been waiting forfuckingever. and i'm tired.) so you're picturing him, tall and handsome and smart and hilarious who is willing to do kinky stuff in bed and doesn't mind helen keller biting the shit out of his toes? fabulous. now try to envision our first argument:


fab: hey sam, did you take the garbage out?
sam: no i did not. i forgot.
fab: what?! how could you forget? it's piled to the ceiling, and the fruit flies have taken over the kitchen, the bathroom, AND my side of the bed! can't you smell the rot?!!
sam: i'm sorry. i said i forgot. i've had a busy week.
fab, with increasing hysteria: I CAN'T BELIEVE I GAVE UP HAVING CHILDREN FOR YOU!
 

because that's how fights go when you're in a couple, isn't it? from inocuous misunderstanding straight to "you ruined my whole fucking life?" i think that shit every time someone pisses me off, especially whenever i've done something nice for him. "i let you cheat off my biology test, and you have the nerve to skip ahead of me in the cafeteria line?!" and i would do the exact same thing if the tables were turned:

sam: did you get peanut butter at whole foods yesterday?
fab: no i did not. i forgot.
sam: what?! how could you forget? i wrote it on the shopping list three times! can't you read?!
fab: i'm sorry. i said i forgot. i've had a busy week.
sam, boiling over with venemous hatred and rage: I CAN'T BELIEVE I DESTROYED MY BODY AND MY SANITY BY HAVING THESE HORRIBLE CHILDREN FOR YOU!

so the next question, i guess, is what's to be done once you know your baby goals are different? he's a reasonably nice dude AND super smart, so should i drop him atop the garbage pile just because he's a reproductive blockhead? or is this a dinner/movie/bootycall-until-he-finds-a-fellow-breeder type of deal? do you have fun while it lasts or throw your hands up in exasperation because what is the fucking POINT? i mean, this should go without saying, but i HATE getting horizontal with some dude who has zero potential. just reading that makes me feel so old, but it's true. hiv has been hunting my sexy ass for years, and so far i've managed to avoid that dirty bitch, but i'd hate to end up in her vicious clutches on account of some lame-ass homie i was just fucking for fun.


i probably won't see him again, because i hate to perpetuate any kind of fraud, and talking about my ovaries with strange dudes is hardly my idea of pleasant dinner conversation. plus, even the thought of a booty call makes me tired, and i don't think sprint offers that kind of phone plan.