Everyone is changing

I open my Facebook and its full of babies.

When did I accept a friend request from a baby?

Ah, yes, my friend reproduced. Cool.

We’re all more or less in our 30s…this shit is National Geographically-David Suzuki normal. So why am I weirded out?

1. Its a little bit crazy that you grow a human INSIDE your body…and you can see it moving around like an alien… #freaky
2. It exits through WHAT?!?!?
3. It buzzkills the party

Alright, let me begin by acknowledging those that I have just pissed off. Hello.

Next, I want to establish the fact that I am an ally. Several of my friends have kids.

My only point of discontent is that I don’t see those friends as much these days. Cuz babies.

Super natural and super beautiful. I love them to bits. Its just that my mates have to be responsible now. Like real responsible. So those epic late nights with friends, with Stifler-inspired American Pie-esque shenanigans, and the ability to recover and do it all again…are in danger of going extinct.

Its not really about the babies.

Its about age. Its about maturity. Its about a change in priorities.

And I completely get it. Most adults are cool with moving onto the next chapter in their lives. A chapter that often begins with a serious job, a serious relationship, a serious amount of bills and a serious consideration of parenthood. The next step being the nesting period, and preparation for life-altering responsibility. The next step is where I get left behind.

And its nothing personal. Its just nature taking its course. People fall in love and often they want to mix the juices of their loins to create a harmonized product of their union. So romantic.

My lover and I fornicate responsibly to ensure no such product. The flip side of that is we never have to ‘really grow up’. So us DINKs (double-income-no-kids) can continue to live the life we currently enjoy, which includes a rather active social life. So, in a way, we are set. Grey hairs will come, we might get fat, the liver may protest, and a meteorite may strike us where we stand…but what I do know is our plan is bulletproof.

Correction: Our plan was bulletproof.

I did not consider the effects that majority population have on said plan. Apparently, I’m part of a small group, and not too many share my views.

And this active social life that I have regularly tended to and consider to be a high priority, is at risk. The friends I have grown to love, are beginning to outgrow me. They are moving on to the next level. A level I don’t want to dip even a finger into…for fear that I will begin waking up at 6am on Sunday mornings to go to some organic farmer’s market on the other side of town. I, my friends, am fighting the good fight.

And yet, what am I fighting for?

To hold onto something that requires an ever-increasing amount of protection each year (and new, younger recruits). To hold onto something that in retrospect pales in comparison to the priorities of my friends. To hold onto something that is arguably not good for me (hint: beverages get consumed). To hold on to our collective youth; that of my friends and mine.

In essence, I am trying to hold onto time.

An impossible feat, and yet, this stubborn individual will not give up.

But in order to save those friendships that I claim to love so dear, this glorifier of the party life needs to adapt…and I’ve made a list of potential suggestions:

1. Don’t be afraid when your friends announce their pregnancy. Be happy.
2. Don’t bring a hip-flask when your grown-up mates say ‘low-key get together’.
3. Try to be a good role model for the little ones. No swearing.
4. Maybe check out the farmer’s market before it closes at 2pm.
5. Embrace the role as Uncle G.

To those of you that I have disappointed for lacking in the department of baby joy, I am deeply sorry. I was too busy defending my fortress of good times. Too busy to see that the fortress is what stands between you and me.

This is me lowering my drawbridge. This is me being reasonable. This is me choosing to adapt as a means of survival. This is me protecting what is most important; our friendship.

So whether you’ve already got a jerk kid running around screaming, making a mess and doing terrible drawings, or you’re planning to get yourself one of those…

Just remember, your kid’s got an Uncle G.

*Circa Early 2016 – A screenshot taken by my friends, capturing my reaction to the news that they are having a baby…(I may or may not be hungover)*