HAVING A BABY

I pondered recently about the implications of being in your mid/late 20s and the effect it has on your psyche. In my mind, you're stuck in a purgatory-like state of maturity. Am I responsible? Do I have a home life/career? At one point do I stop picking my nose in polite company?

These are indeed central questions in one's life. That and why can't scientists come up with an energy drink that doesn't taste like cough syrup?

I was having an IM chat recently with a friend of 12 years. That's nearly half my life, and our friendship has extended back to a time I kindly refer to as my "formative years". I consider him one of my closest, and perhaps only blond, friend.

He's a bit of a goofus. One bright Sunday morning we were searching for brunch and, noticing a storefront, he exclaimed "how about that cay-f?"

"What's a cay-f?"
"That cay-f over there."
He pointed to a sign, it read "cafe".

At another point in his life (he was perhaps 15), he got so remarkably high, that when I walked into his room, he was trying to swallow one of those little bottles of breath freshener.

"I'm so dirty! I need to clean myself! BREATH SMELL GOOD!!!"

He let the bottle go and I literally stuck my hands in the back of his throat and removed the offending object. Every yearbook signature from then on included the phrase "thanks for saving my life".

These are not two isolated incidents. If the guy was a musician, he would be called "Doofus Wainwright"

Anyway, back to my conversation. I barely see him anymore, but I have met his girlfriend and seen his apartment. I think he makes a modest income and it seems like he genuinely loves his lady. So, when he immed me "I've got something important to tell you", I assumed that he was telling me he was going to get married.

I was wrong:

"Matt, I've got something to tell you."
"..."
"We're having a baby"
"WOW"

He's having a baby. WOW! He's not getting married...which, I suppose at any other time in our history might be weird, but he's having a baby.

Of course, being a complete and utter narcissist, I brought it back to myself. He is the first of my close friends to actually have a baby (though many have gone down the marriage path) and I pondered about how that reflected upon me.

I thought about being 27. I thought about wanting to be alive to see my kid have kids. I thought about not wanting to have kids. I thought about Jessica Rabbit naked. I thought about how I could be a superhero, but I just don't look good in tights.

I'm certainly years away from being in a place in my life where I would be comfortable having an off-spring. I can't even imagine a little near-sighted Matt wondering around, being all neurotic with his train set and questioning the existence of a higher-power while eating his spaghetti ohs. Also, I would feel sorry for my kid if he ended up being as awful as I described him. There goes 18 years of Saturday nights.

But, I guess the biggest question is; when would I be ready? Certainly not fucking now, matey. Is it a maturity thing? Is it a career thing? Is it a commitment thing? Is it the fact that I REALLY ENJOY being completely irresponsible?

Probably all of the above. I mean, who wants a kid around when you can sit on your couch naked, drinking piss-poor vino, gently stroking a butter knife across your jugular while googling ex girlfriends?

Hmmm...that makes me sound creepy. Oh well!