I write this story knowing I will have to run away after this. Because this one time I will make no effort to hide who I am talking about. She will know I am talking about her so why should I bother trying to hide it? So much work that will all be rendered useless when she sees the piece. What I do know is none of the other individuals concerned will actually know it is about her (and by extension them) because, well because. Writing a ‘because’ will be making their job at figuring this one out easier.
Why I might have to run away is because said person knows exactly where I live. I am afraid our house might catch a mysterious fire soon after I put this up. 🙂
Now that I am done apologizing to her for making her the subject of today’s post, 🙂 we can move on to the story. Yes dearie, this is a mini apology. And I’m also throwing in an offer for cake.
Friends with benefits, not just a movie… Yes I know these things exist but it is especially entertaining and maybe troubling when you know the characters involved.
Here is the thing, sometimes men can be a handful to deal with. I think that should be most times. So here’s what she has decided, she is getting kids (quite a number I should add) but not getting married. And there will be as many fathers as the number of kids. She already knows who the fathers are going to be. It wasn’t just some random choice. She has done her homework. Beauty and brains as she calls them. Or do we define it as handsome and brains when it comes to a man. I would mention why they qualify for both categories but I might end up a victim of more than one arson and probably bring her down with me.
She knows what she wants for her kids and she is doing a good job hunting these down. Distributing odds I think. I am not entirely sure why she still hasn’t bagged a sportpesa jackpot, but I don’t think football is her kind of thing. She looks more like a swimming person. Or maybe one of those people who know all about horses and what horse is favoured to win what race. But I digress.
I wanted to know if the guys won a place on a shortlist. You know, a ranking of sorts. When you do certain things you increase your chances of landing the shortlist. Mess up and you are stuck off the list; you have to win a position back. Were they being monitored with no idea it was happening? That one I did not get a complete answer to.
Then there was the all-important issue, which came first. Friend or baby-daddy? By which I mean, did she choose potential baby-daddies from her list of existing friends. Or did she ‘head-hunt’ potential fathers and pursue them till the bonds of friendship were established. She told me they were all friends. Good friends I should add. Some in what she defines as stable relationships. Or maybe happy is the word, I forget.
I asked her what pick up line you use to get someone give you their seed. Because from face value, this looks wrong either way. If he knows what you are after, how could he possibly be okay with it? And if he doesn’t know what you are after, shouldn’t it be illegal on some front? (Classifiable as theft?) If you looked at it from a moral angle, can’t you poke a hole or two in the logic? I have tried typing out the answer I got to this one, my keyboard is shy and just won’t write it as is. And paraphrasing kinda takes a lot of the juice out.
“Doesn’t all this make you a sperm gold digger?”
For some reason, she found this thoroughly amusing.
“No. I just know what I want. They will too.”
There was something about the way she explained everything that made this conversation very scintillating. Dismissing some of my questions with “That’s pretty obvious. “ To which I at some point responded “Forgive me. I have never had sperm-hunting on my day’s to do list. “
She does not have a solution to every complication that might arise but believe me she has a lot of it figured out.
She even knows when the first baby arrives. “I am starting 2018 with a bang,” she told me.
“Pun.” She confirmed slyly.
Apparently some of the potentials have RSVP’d. I am not sure if they had been made aware they were the cake at the party they RSVP’d to, but that’s none of my business.
There’s something about the way she tells the story. Her quiet laugh and charming smile punctuating seemingly evil thoughts. Her candidness about the whole issue. She paused once or twice, probably trying to figure out if the truth made a better answer or if she ought to lie; probably trying to assess her own insanity. But she talked about it the way you would talk about the weather – like it was the kind of conversation to have with the one behind you in a slow-moving queue.
I should probably end this with a ‘men beware’. But maybe they won’t even know what hit them.