(This is a draft of something that I might turn into something else. Tonight, I am feeling sassy so this is what you get.)
I will never feel your feet push inside me, nor will you ever give me kankles.
The concept of changing anyone's diaper is my ninth circle of hell. I mean really, I'm not great with bodily functions that are my own, never mind someone else's. I know love is what makes you want to do such a thing but to me, love is a goodnight's sleep and glass of wine to celebrate anything from finally getting published to putting on pants and getting the mail.
I will never post pictures of your food covered face on social media. I find those to be about as gross as ferrets. Why do people even do that? To all my friends, you're welcome.
You do not tick, like other women say you should. Your lack of existence does not make me feel like less of a woman, or lead me to believe I will always fall short on love. I am not a slave to the need to have you. You are not an, "I have nothing better to do."
It's not that I couldn't love you. I love you already. I love you as the egg I lay once a month that gets washed away in a crescendo of Hersey's Chocolate with Almonds, cotton based products, and "women's" medication that they swear is different from Advil. I love that you don't exist in the same way that I love zombie movies as movies, and not as a real life thing.
At this point, you are an arbitrary figment of my writer's brain and I hope you stay that way. Why? Because should I decide to become a parent, I want to give a chance to someone who might not have gotten it otherwise. It takes the stress of science, and relieves my hold on fate. It does not tether me to anything that I would rely on someone else to help me create. The lack of you allows me to be free in all the ways I need to be.
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