People lacking the basic intelligence required to own a spatula are producing children at an alarming rate. I know this from Facebook, and it's scaring me on many levels.
Let's back up. So far the majority of my Facebook contacts are people I don't or won't ever speak to. They're people I went to high school or elementary school with, and despite not having had a close relationship when we actually saw each other every day, many of these people have tracked me down on Facebook.
I don't know why I add people like this to my Friends List, because I couldn't care any less about what they're doing. If you're reading this right now and you are one of my Facebook Friends, know that I'm not talking about you. Or at least it's unlikely.
Anyhoodle. Out of morbid curiosity, I'll scroll through the Friends section of my Facebook Friends (and yes, I'm aware of how stupid that sentence sounds) to see who else they know, and who they married should they fail to provide the requisite Facebook wedding album. (Speaking of which, there really needs to be a moratorium placed on wedding photos featuring the couple in black and white and a single red rose in colour. Seriously.)
Don't think this means I actually do care about these people. I'm nosy, and it's a way to unfairly compare myself to others in areas that are irrelevant and self-defeating, so obviously I'm all over it.
What I've discovered is awe-inspiring, and not in a good way. Sunsets are awe-inspiring in a good way. Projectile vomiting is awe-inspiring in a bad way. This situation is the latter.
Just today I learned that a kid who used to beat the living daylights out of his girlfriend in the parking lot of my high school while his buddies egged him on has a baby girl. The girl who once suggested my best bet would be to date guys who are kind, because they'd date me out of pity is raising a little boy.
A girl who used to randomly punch other girls in the face has a baby who looks like Uncle Fester. A guy who one said gay people should be gassed is teaching his kids how to shoot.
An ex-boyfriend who was more gay than straight is now married with a son. Another ex who broke up with me because he "chose Jehovah over sin" is now raising two kids. Let's not get into what these guys say about my taste in men, alright? It was a difficult year.
These stories make me queasy enough, but I'm also left with a weird sense of panic. Where was I when all this was going on?
What was I busy doing when all of these people met somebody, married, and started dropping crotch-fruit?
Even though I have no desire to reproduce, and this is good because obviously alumni of my high school have got the repletion of the planet thing covered, I am reaching an age where I want to have a wedding. I'm not totally sold on the husband part, but a party in my honour with an open bar is long-overdue.
I've taken the path less taken, without having meant to. I've never been able to read a map, and I don't mind being different from a bunch of assholes I've always been different from.
More and more however, photo albums are popping up on my Facebook Newsfeed from Friends I really do consider friends, and their lives are taking the marriage and babies path too.
Not that I'm facing a choice, but I think I'll keep kicking it on the path I'm on. There's way less traffic over here, and my Facebook profile stays diaper-smell free.
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