A Day In My Purposefully Childless Life, According To People Who Think I Should Have Children
My money is mine, damnit! And all I want to spend it on is me, me, me!
12:00 PM: I wake up early! I have absolutely nothing to do today: no obligations, no work, no hobbies, and certainly no friends or family to occupy my time. I might as well go back to sleep and squander the precious moments I have here on earth.
12:30 PM: After that quick post-sleep nap, I leave the house and deliberately cut in front of a mother of two young children in line at the local coffee shop. She needs to know that she isn’t the only one who’s tired here. I convey with a single look just how much I judge her choices simply because I have not made the same ones.
1:15 PM: I return home to do my daily meditation on how much I hate children. Their tiny faces make me sick.
1:52 PM: Over lunch, I spare a quick glance at the clock in my kitchen. It ticks ruthlessly onward, a stark reminder that I, too, possess a clock within me, one that tick-tick-ticks ever closer towards my inevitable biological endgame. I silently will it to move faster, desperate to rid myself of the feminine curse that is my god-given fertility.
2:00 PM: I stare at the wall for a while. It is just SO hard to fill my days!
2:05 PM: A single tear symbolising my womb’s prolonged emptiness rolls down my cheek. I collect it in the jar I use to water my 500 houseplants.
2:30 PM: I peruse my dating apps, taking care to avoid the profiles of men who have checked the dreaded “Wants Kids” box. Deep down I fear that if I ever fall in love with one of these creatures, every single lifelong belief I hold about not wanting children will disappear faster than my pants when he looks into my eyes and whispers, “Did you know that toddlers eat their own poo?” I must stay strong. I swipe left.
3:00 PM: On my way to the store, a charity worker asks me for money to help Save the Children. The audacity! I pull out a twenty dollar bill and set it on fire as she watches in horror. My money is mine, damnit! And all I want to spend it on is me, me, me!
3:50 PM: The worst has happened: I see a baby on a bus. Its wide, innocent eyes bore into mine as if to say, “Soon, all of this will be yours.” I feel the stirrings of what must be motherly instinct flare up inside me, but I beat them down! No! Don’t let the baby win! I will not succumb to what every single other woman in the world but me feels! I must continue to disappoint my mother!
4:45 PM: “No kids? What do you do all day?” inquires the man bagging my groceries. “This,” I reply, and punch a nearby toddler.
6:30 PM: I return home and feed my twenty five cats.
7:00 PM: I eat my own dinner, taking the briefest of moments to contemplate how truly alone I am in the world. Who am I, if I have no offspring? No descendants? No progeny to carry on my family legacy of social anxiety and eating Kraft Dinner straight out of the pot? I sob over my orange-hued noodles, achingly aware of the fact that despite the deep affection I share with my friends and family, I will never know real love.
7:10 PM: Disgusted with myself after that embarrassing display of emotional weakness, I throw a dart at a dartboard with a picture of a happy family of four taped to it. Bullseye! I feel mollified.
9:30 PM: I go on a date with a wonderful, charming man. He is perfect in every way. Could I finally have found The One? As I am mentally making wedding plans, however, he reveals that he has a young daughter from a previous marriage. I make him promise to disown her if he wants to continue dating me.
10:45 PM: On my way home I make sure to kick a stray teenager down some stairs. I’ve got a quota to fill.
11:00 PM: I settle down in bed for the night. As I close my eyes, I find myself haunted by the question that echoes through my mind night after night: who will take care of me when I am older, if not my children? I make a decision then and there to leech off of my friends’ money and hospitality when I retire. They won’t mind. They’ll miss having children to take care of, anyway.
11:30 PM: I finally sleep. Gotta get those 13 hours of uninterrupted rest while I can — I have so many more selfish things to do tomorrow!