Babies. The subject of my friend Liz came up as we happened to drive past her parents home over the weekend. They asked if she still lived in that small house up north. I told them no, they’ve moved further up north now. And I began telling them just how awesome their new place actually was. It was big and filled with light and even had a pool in the large backyard that backs onto a reserve. Oh and that it was ridiculously cheap. But dad was quick to rebut that it was essentially cheap because of it’s inconvenient distance from the city.
Well I too was quick to reply with a sarcastic “obviously” because they can’t afford to spend over one million dollars to just live conveniently nearby. I mean, it’s not like they wouldn’t love to live near the bay and city centre, it’s just they can’t. Simple. And that is why they found themselves in a geographically beautiful area out closer to those rural towns. And this is why the majority of us Gen Y’s end up moving north. It went back and forth, both parties stubborn in their opinions. So then the conversation turned to her husband and if he was still doing the same trade or if he’d taken over his father’s business yet. And then, somehow, they asked if she had a baby.
I knew what I was in store for as soon as I uttered that word yes. Surprisingly he muttered something to mum, something like that she was right. Though how they even knew that Liz had a baby was beyond me since I only found out for myself at the end of last year! They asked the general things, boy or girl, how many weeks etc, then the topic moved right on to what a waste of space I am. How everyone my age is married and now having babies. Even their nemesis at their work place’s daughter brought a house eons ago and moved out in no time. Oh and she is married and now has a kid and is a dental nurse too. My apparent failures and lack of direction makes them look bad, or in their words like the idiot.
Their daughter is stupid and does nothing.
What I don’t quite understand is how someone who thinks my standing in this life is just so horribly bad can sit there and bring that person down so dramatically? To not feel a shred of compassion. I mean they think it’s the worst of the worst! How they don’t put themselves in my shoes and see the situation that is so awful to them and realize that in pointing out all these apparent atrocities I’ve committed tirelessly, it makes me feel worse. And that it actually achieves nothing more than bad blood. And anyway, like I don’t have all this gnawing away at me already. Like I don’t feel like shit every time I step outside and see a couple or even worse a couple with a baby and realize that that possibility may never be on the cards for me.
And to pour even more salt to the wound they follow that stunner with that they should never have done “so” much for me. In them doing too much for me it made matters worse.
What is all “this” they’ve actually done for me? I honestly don’t know. Are they talking about paying my schooling? I think that is kind of mandatory for a parent these days no? And considering how they overprotected and sheltered me from every single thing growing up, I can’t see what else they mean. And I mean good things. I could just be biased here, my brain only pointing out the obvious bad, but maybe they’re referring to those times they “had” to bail me out with a few hundred here and there when I was younger? Or maybe that they took my Honda for a service yesterday? Then again, they took my brothers in last week and paid for it and so that is null and void considering they tried to hide the fact they paid for him.
You know when I was little, while other children played with other children, I was left alone to play with only my imagination for companionship. And while little girls played princess, I dreamed of getting married to someone who’d love me. Who’d finally be my friend and that we’d have that family I wish I had then and there. They never brought friends around for me to play with and when I did finally make a friend they were never allowed to come over and vice versa. So to hear those hurtful words again and again are like a million knifes to the heart every time. And I’m left to fix the damage. To find that used up and worn bandage and wrap it back up tightly around my heart to keep me from bleeding to death.
Whatever, I’m sure there is more “good” stuff, and I don’t mean to sound arrogant, ungrateful and brat-like but I am slightly blinded by rage right now.