The way I don’t like kids

Before I go into this, rule of thumb: whatever you see under the category of ‘myself’, you should probably skip it. I’m not a likable person and my views can be regarded as misanthropic, misogynistic and whatnot. With that in mind, let’s get rolling.

I have said quite a few times that I don’t wanna have kids. Most of the time I’m misunderstood and people tend to believe that I don’t like ‘em. Quite untrue. Kids are fine. The parents are maybe just a little “unfine”. I will hold no secret to you, my dear horrified readers, most of the kids in this world are conceived in one of the following ways:

- he forgot to pull out. She is Catholic (read all about it.)
- the 80s aren’t really that far away, so you can imagine teenagers getting a little carried away at a rave party, right?
- Sweetie? Where are they?
- They?
- The…rubbers?
- Didn’t you ask for a pack of cigarettes?

And of course my imagination can carry on. So most of the kids are born out of lack of responsibility. You wouldn’t believe such irresponsible people would make good parents, would you? With that idea in mind, I do not want to be a parent (serves me right, huh!) First and foremost, I’m a loony. I took some of my time to find out that genetics aren’t really rubbish. I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my nights with a gun near my bed, fearing that my kid will grow up wanting to “succeed” me sooner than expected.

Secondly, I would not turn out to be a good parent. Period. Anything you may say, whoever you are, you are not right. I can’t even take care of myself, let alone somebody else! I would probably leave him/her in my parents’ care, but that would make me irresponsible. A kid needs his parents and that’s something I’ve learned well. Knowing myself better than anyone else, I could not forgive myself for making a child’s life miserable. That’s why I normally carry around with me an up-to-date threepack of condoms, just in case. With that settled, here’s the near death experience of the day.

I was having lunch at my favorite restaurant this afternoon. It was snowing nicely and the place was conveniently empty. Perfect! I sat at a random table with a view towards the street to watch the snow gently falling. I ordered some lemonade, a soup and some french fries and waited while enjoying the view.

In the meantime, a him, a her and two kids decide to show up. Where should they sit? Well, right next to me, of course! It would be impolite to leave someone alone in an entire part of the restaurant!

My immediate thought was: “I shouldn’t have ordered roast beef with those fries.” My stomach simply stopped functioning and I was going to stay there for another good 30 minutes.

Naturally, the kids started screaming and bashing random objects requesting their every desire be accomplished. Normally, I don’t pay attention to their petty squabbles since they are generally the same every time, so I decided not to make an exception this time.

Whatever the so-called parents were doing to calm them down, they certainly weren’t making their sounds less perceivable. I took a good look at them, making sure they wouldn’t notice me. She was pretty, almost too pretty, so she was probably making up for something else since the bloke she chose to pass on her STDs to certainly wasn’t someone a woman with a Ph. D would have chosen. He was massive, having three layers of fat on the back of his neck, a decent-sized belly and muscular arms to match. He had more hair on his legs than on his head, on which he wore sunglasses. In mid winter. He had a golden chain around his neck, with an almost obscene thickness to it.

After finishing my meal and paying the check, I got up, reached out in my pocket for my condoms, went to their table and set it down, saying:

- Here. You’ll need them more than I do.

And then I left. I pretty much rushed on the way back home, occasionally looking back to see if the huge man was running after me with a sledgehammer or not.

Now I’m not sure if I will be able to eat there ever again.