Today I was reading an article by John Kinnear at the Huff Post, “5 Things Parents Need to Stop Saying to Non-Parents.” I shared it on my Facebook page and noted that I especially liked that it was written by a parent, when my fellow child-free-by-choice (CBC) friend, Theresa (you all know her from by her battle cry for small boobies) took issue with one part:
“As a non-parent I’m a bit upset that he told everyone about all the hookers & blow we have at our parties.”
Hookers and blow. He totally outed us.
It’s not like we are trying to hide it in shame. It’s actually our way of being nice to parents; a little mercy, if you will.
The fact is, while our friends with kids are rattling on over their Monday-morning lattes about how their weekend was packed full of soccer games, barfing, swim lessons, kids’ birthday parties, and middle-of-the-night temper tantrums, we’re only nodding with feigned sympathy to be polite. We don’t WANT to rub in your face what our weekend was like, so we give a canned response, some variation of, “Oh, I just did some work around the house.”
The fact is, this is the typical weekend of the child-free:
1. Hookers and blow – thanks for outing us, John Kinnear. Yes, the cat is out of the bag: us CBCs love our hookers and blow. It’s really the biggest reason we chose to not have kids. It is SO difficult to have hooker and blow parties when you have kids hanging around. Even if the hooker does have a kid, they’re surprisingly hesitant to turn the blow party into a “blow and playdate” party. So we selflessly forego children. Look parents, until you’ve experienced a hookers and blow party, your life is truly not complete. You haven’t lived. It is a special experience, and words alone can not do it justice.
2. Swinging – oh come on, we all deny that it happens, but us CBCs throw the BEST swinging parties. The fact is, when we meet other couples who are also CBCs, we’re secretly sizing them up to determine if we’d sleep with them. If they make the cut, they’re invited. And we don’t do key parties anymore, that is so 70s (and, unlike 70s swinging parties, we’re all ridiculously hot). In fact, if you hear someone mention a “key party”, it’s a sure sign they’re a parent. We do smart phone parties. Everyone tosses their smartphones in a basket and then grabs someone elses. Each party has a “Designated Texter” and, when it’s time to switch partners, they simply text “Switch” to everyone.
3. Not only do we wipe ourselves with money, we drink it, too – Remember that episode of South Park where it was revealed that Magic Johnson avoids developing full-blown AIDS because he puts his money in a blender and drinks it? Well us CBCs got a little nervous that our secret may be exposed because, the truth is, part of the secret to our happiness is the fact that we take extra money we save by not having children, throw it in the blender, and drink it. We are also part of a secret exchange program, where we trade stacks of cash for rolls of cash. Fresh cash against your ass is the most luxurious feeling in the world. I’m sad for those who cannot experience it, because it is life changing. Again, we weren’t hiding it to be secretive, we just didn’t want to rub it in the faces of our friends with kids while we watch them scrape together extra cash to put away for their kids’ college funds.
4. We worship our vaginas and stomach skin in the mirror – it’s our form of religion. You know how parents do things like, have gratitude every day that their kids are healthy, or don’t need braces? Well us CBCs have seen the pictures of vaginas and stomachs post-birthing, and they truly inspire gratitude. I can stare at my vagina and be grateful that my vulva will never be stretched to the size of a soup bowl; Calm-ass Husband will never have to contemplate if it may be better suited to just prop me up on the couch, spoon some guacamole into my vagina, and grab some tortilla strips for a light snack while he watches The Killing. And we can rub our tummies and not read braille. Those aren’t tiger stripes – that is a goddamn sign of the coming apocalypse. It’s alien messaging and you derelict scientists need to start deciphering that shit like they’re the new crop circles.
5. We have our own fight club. It involves bikinis and bukkake. But that’s all I can say because I’ve already broken the first rule.
So there it is. Mr. Kinnear let the cat out of the bag, but it is a bit of a relief. So now, when our parent friends look at us and say, “Why are YOU so tired, you probably just slept all weekend”, we can finally be honest and say, “Between the blow, gang bangs, vaginal worship and bukkake…..I’m EXHAUSTED!”