Posted in Picture, Writing

Marriage is for Quitters

Being a 32-year-old, unmarried, childless waste of a human life, I am often asked when I’m going to sort my shit out.  I would like to take this opportunity to tell these people that I do have my shit sorted out, and said shit is divided up as follows:

Billy and I have been together for over 12 years with no intention of getting married.  Like none at all.  I have no interest in wedding dresses, flowers and colour coordinated fabric swatches all crammed into a room full of relatives who don’t particularly like each other.  We already have the mortgage, the dog and the joint bank account, why would I want the piece of paper that gives Billy permission to take a shit with the door open?   Now, this is not to say that we won’t ever get married.  I’m sure once I’ve popped out a few kids and my vagina looks like the blown out remains of a Baghdad government building I will give in and accept my fate, but until then, I would rather spend wedding-money on things like this:

Plus, I quite like being someone’s girlfriend.  It gives the somewhat exciting illusion that it could all come to an end at any minute* (*update: it did) and it also makes me feel like I have loads of time until I have to start breeding* (*update: I still don’t).  We did get engaged about 7 years ago, but that was essentially just so people would stop asking us when we were going to get engaged and also in the hope that they would back the fuck off my uterus and stop making unrealistic demands of it.  I wasn’t ready for kids then and, even though it won’t be long before my ovaries shrivel up and disappear in a little *puff* of dust, I still don’t know if I am.  Not long ago, I was accused by a complete stranger in a bar of being “selfish” for having this attitude towards having kids.  He said, and I quote:

“So you’re 32 and you don’t have any kids yet?  So you’re selfish then?  You’re a woman, it is your responsibility to have children.  Every man does not necessarily have to have a child but, as a woman, you do.  Right now, while you’re sitting here with your pint and your little job, you are depriving a child the right to human life.  How does that make you feel?”

I proceeded to explain that I felt it was more selfish to sit in a 2 bedroom council flat with no job, pumping out 5 kids who will then be brought up in cramped and poverty-striken conditions, but he was too busy staring at his sister’s tits to pay attention to anything I was saying.

When it comes down to it, money is the issue here and I hate myself for even saying that.  For the majority of our relationship, Billy and I have had no money.  At one point we were living off £30 a week between us.  In order to try to make the situation a bit better, we decided that I would go to University and Billy would take on a second job to pay the bills.  I graduated in 2009 and Billy is now free to start his own business, something he has always wanted to do.  It is only in the past year that we have bought a grown-up house and have money left in our bank account at the end of the month.  Do you have any idea how fun that is?  I’m still not over the novelty of being able to buy something I want for the simple reason that I can.  I just bought this teapot.  Don’t even need it:

All I want is a couple of years to enjoy this feeling before I spend all my free time being skint again and going to coffee mornings slightly drunk on wine and completely covered in shit-spew. I want a god-damn video game room before it gets turned into a nursery.  I want to go on a grunge pilgrimage to Seattle.  I like my boobs, my vagina is top-notch and I wouldn’t mind keeping it that way for a little while longer.  On top of this, I love my job and, right now, cannot bear the thought of leaving it.  I appreciate that there are people out there who can’t have kids, and I may live to regret putting it off for so long, but is having kids because other people can’t have them healthy motivation?  Probably not.

Maybe that sheep-raping Yorkshire dickhead in the bar was right.  Maybe I am selfish.  So what do you do when your head is that of a 14-year-old boy but your body is that of a middle-aged female?  I honestly don’t know.  What I do know is, I would never forgive myself if I didn’t start a family and, let’s be honest, what the world needs in these hard times is a Jillian/Billy combo-human (or ‘Billian’, as they will be known).  I am genuinely excited about one day having a baby, just let me buy a few more pieces of Lionel Ritchie crockery first.

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