I have an acquaintance.
I can't call her a friend, because we're not that close.
And honestly, I don't wish to be that close with her.
We are completely different people.
We have only one thing in common:
Our other friends.
The acquaintance is extremely intelligent.
But what she has in book smarts, she lacks in common sense.
She has a biology degree.
But apparently, she missed the day when they explained procreation.
Because she's 3 months pregnant.
Because she didn't use a condom.
Her lack of foresight isn't what bothers me.
She claims to love the child's father, he claims to love her and they have seemed somewhat excited about the pregnancy.
If not a little dumb about it.
HE - is a pot head.
And when I say "pot head", I don't mean that he smokes occasionally or every other Tuesday or even every Monday, but he smokes about every other hour of every day.
HE - lost his job.
To hear him tell it, he was semi-fired and semi-quit.
But I don't think you semi-quit when you are BANNED for LIFE from Chili's or any of it's affiliate restaurants.
He may not work there, nor even eat there.
HE - is in NO great rush to find another.
In fact, he "doesn't want to work."
Sidenote - does anyone WANT to work?
SHE - just started a new job with the government.
Her benefits haven't kicked in.
She has no health insurance.
SHE - makes less than $30,000 a year before taxes.
Has NEVER paid for any bills of her own.
Has had her parents paying for everything.
And she's 26.
THEY - have been living with friends.
But obviously can't do so now.
They must find a house.
A town of three colleges and rents so high they make your eyebrows lift to your hair line.
That accepts pets.
THIS is the straw that broke the camel's back:
Baby Momma: "We need to find a three bedroom house."
Me: "Three bedroom houses, in Conway, particularly that accept pets, are going to be HIGH HIGH HIGH. Why do you need three bedrooms?"
Baby Momma: "Because -baby daddy- needs a room for his hobbies, I need a room for my hobbies and we need a room to sleep in."
Me: Dead Silence and Long Looks.
Baby Momma: "What's that look for?"
Me: "Are you forgetting something?"
Baby Momma: "Oh yeah, we need like a bonus room or an outside room or something because he can't smoke his pot in the house, I'm allergic and it makes me nauseous."
Me: More Silence. Definitely More Pointed Look - this time at her stomach.
Baby Momma: "WHAT????"
Me: Aggrivated. Beyond. Reason.
Maybe because she's stupid. Maybe because she's three months pregnant and I don't know if I will EVER be able to be in that state. Maybe because people don't have to have a license to procreate. Maybe because she's been sheltered her whole life. Maybe because she obviously doesn't grasp that she has a life inside her, one that she's responsible for for the next 18 years and beyond. Maybe for a lot of reasons.
Baby Momma: "Stop looking at me like that! What??"
Me: Exploding: "Where the fuck is the baby supposed to go???????"
Baby Momma: "Oh." long pause. "Oh, yeah."
I could tell you more, but I need to bash my head in right now.
Like how she thinks her paycheck (because she's never had a job before now) for two weeks is going to be 1000 + dollars. Even though our friend who makes the same amount has already told her that after taxes and health insurance and retirement, she's going to be lucky to get $800 every two weeks. And how she has no idea how much electricity costs - "We'll budget about $100 a month for that." Even though I've told her that I'm just ONE person and I never have any lights or anything on except a stereo and it costs me around $200 a month JUST FOR THAT. And this could go on and on.
Hitting. Head. Against. Desk.
So, I'm thinking of pulling a Judy Blume.
Are you there God, it's me, Meghan.
And asking: "Why can insipid people procreate, but people like me who would LOVE to have children and probably could do a fair job raising them, are possibly unable to??"
Room for his hobbies and room for my hobbies.