I Hate Children.

This probably isn’t going to come as much of a shock, but I hate kids.

I’ve never been a kid person. I don’t think I was a kid person when I was a kid, so this visceral reaction I have towards them is well-rooted. As a person, I’m typically cranky, inflexible, and I don’t like shit messing with my routine. I don’t like noise, I don’t like mess, and I have zero patience. It’s a good thing I’m a mo, because procreating? The thought of having a small life of my own to be responsible for makes me shudder. Give me a bowel disorder and an insulin deficiency, and I’m a nursing home resident.

Perhaps it’s because while I’m an adult in every other aspect of my life, I still posses the mildly selfish impulses children do. Hello, contradiction. I’m not selfless enough to devote all of my time and energy to someone else, except for my dog. He’s the exception. I’m not a selfish person by nature, and I’d give you the shirt off my back if it came down to it, that’s not what I’m saying. But I’ve lived my life for me for the majority of my near-23 years on this planet, and if anything, I’m a creature of routine and habit. It ruins my entire day if my coffee pot is broken or if something happens that fucks up my schedule. Perhaps that’s something that changes in people when they have kids. Perhaps that life-long evolutionary imperative to focus on Number One dissolves when one has offspring to rear and look after. Some people are just predisposed to be parents. My sister is a natural at it, and she is very much like me in her mildly cranky disposition. Who knows.

It’s disheartening when close friends or people I look up to begin popping out kids. It feels like all of the fun has been sucked out of the room, and soon all they’ll be talking about is nipples and spitup and how to properly wash the crusted shit out of a cloth diaper. Not my idea of a good time. I can understand the impulse parents have to talk about this kind of subject matter; a new way of living has recently settled itself into their lives, and everything about them as people has changed. They’re now a parent - someone responsible for the life of another human being. So it’s natural that you automatically talk about things that take up the good majority of your day-to-day life. But can’t we still squeeze an adult conversation in somewhere along the way? I’m not a parent, and I don’t care about your chaffed nipples.

Still, it is rather odd that I have this dislike for children and everything they represent. I can still faintly remember what it felt like to be a kid - the imagination, the unwavering faith in others you posess before you become jaded by anything. Each experience is new, and nothing is trite or convoluted yet. Anything is a very real possibility, and there’s no such thing as an alterior motive. Passive aggression doesn’t exist yet. But there’s a disconnect somewhere along the line that prohibits me from being able to relate to them.

I guess I’m just a dog person. As I sat down to write this, I realized I had several dog biscuits in the pocket of my robe. I could devote all of my time and energy to say, running an animal shelter. Taking Jack to the vet to get his shots, or buying things he needs is in no way an obligation, but rather something I enjoy doing. I take care of him with the same brand of love that I imagine many parents take care of their children with.

I think it also has to do with the stigma I attach to parenthood. So many people in my life have settled down too early, had children, and were relegated to the dismal fluorescent lights of a dingy supermarket for the rest of their lives. Even if that’s not the case, that’s automatically what comes to my mind. Rotting in Suburban Somewhere, losing bits of themselves each day. It’s a good thing my sister likes children, because the fam won’t be getting any grandkids out of this cranky old bitch.

Point is, if we’re having a conversation, please try to avoid the following topics or behaviors. For the sake of my sanity, and our friendship.

• The funny thing your kid did/said/wrote/drew
• Baby poop.
• Picture showing.
• Forcing me to watch your dribbling infant sit there and slobber for an hour and a half.
• Asking me to hold it.
• Nipples, bottles, diapers, ass cream.

Thank you and good day.