Winner winner, chicken dinner. 

Happy Singles’ Awareness Day once again! I’m so consistent I’m actually mildly proud of it. 

Speaking of singles, the boys and I say or do pretty dumb things at times, and Saturday seemed to have topped the charts for now. I don’t remember who brought it up, or why we were talking about it, but maternal instincts and biological clocks came into the picture. I vehemently denied wanting any children ever (you know how I cringe at that thought), and the boys insisted otherwise. I’m very surprised because even though we had some years lapsed between us, I’ve been anti-children since they knew me 17 years ago (fuck, does this make me sound old or what). 

But noooo, they were as sure as the sun will shine tomorrow morning that I’d be a mother to at least a couple of little monsters one day. And I threw the question back to them. And their answers left my jaw hanging. Apparently they ALL want to be fathers some day! Ok. Maybe I don’t know them as well as I think I do. Like, what’s going to happen to me when they all settle down and leave me by my lonesome self??? Homaigawd. 

So anyway, we were going back and forth about the future of my uterus and we came up with this stupid bet. They are very confident that I’ll be a mother by the end of 2019. But then they started cheating. They said even if I adopt a cat, or become someone’s godmother I would lose. Seriously, who makes up such ridiculous rules?! It ties back to my “maternal instincts”. And the stakes are 10 bottles of gin (later upped to Martell) that are to be shared amongst us, sponsored by the loser. 

Okayyyy. I don’t know about them but I’m pretty confident these bottles will belong on my shelf. Logically speaking, we’re halfway into quarter one of 2017. That means to fulfill the bet (putting the cat rule aside), I’d have to 1) find a man, 2) charm the pants off each other, 3) plan a wedding, 4) be married, 5) conceive, and 6) finally give birth. All within a span of two years give and take. 

Seriously. I’m laughing as I type at the incredulity of it all. I think they’ve forgotten the most important point here. I’m fucking consistent. If I can be single since…. (hold on I’m really counting) 2005 (wait WHAT?! Holy fuck!!), what makes them think I’ll accomplish six impossible tasks in such a short time?

Let’s all wait and see. Let the countdown begin. Am going to sit back and wait for my 10 bottles to fall into my lap. 


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