So I’m now at that age in life where all your friends start procreating like it’s going out of style. One week you’re having coffee and cake with a girlfriend you haven’t seen for a while, and the next week she seems to have forgotten how to use consonants and is carrying a little bundle of person that smells a lot like breast milk and baby oil. How can you not just adore babies though? They’re cute, innocent and they like to suck on anything shiny.
But today, I don’t want to talk about how cool babies are; I want to talk about birth control. A few weeks ago we saw a couple that we are friends with. I asked the wife to come have a glass of wine with me and, head lowered as if she were embarrassed, she told me that they were expecting. This is pretty awesome because I know that these two have wanted nothing more than a child. Her husband then goes on to state that it was “sort of an accident”. WTF does that mean?
A while ago, a childhood friend sent me a message on Facebook. The message said “Guess what! I had a baby!” The only person more surprised than I by this revelation of life was her. Yeah, she didn’t know she was pregnant. Everyone else knew, but she was still in the dark about it. So when her little son pushed himself out in the world, screaming his rage at the unfairness of it, a real life “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” came to be.
LADIES! Let’s talk about sex, baby.
No, it is not just a woman’s responsibility to prevent baby-time. But Ladies, let me ask you, are you willing to trust the dude who “accidentally” drinks bad milk and can’t figure out how to pick up his own crunchy socks? Yeah, me neither.