My protege dons the "sober goggles"

Yes, I, the Unit Parental, have a protege. He is a dude who lives in my neighborhood. His name is Boris (name changed). Boris is a new dad... Condolences, my man!

I met Boris in the heady two months before his wife gave birth to their very own Life Force Sucker. He was the picture of impending fatherhood--flushed in the cheeks with optimism, talking about painting the room, setting up the crib, and all that crap that keeps you too occupied to realize what is happening to your life.

Once, in those dreamyy days before he became a Unit himself, Boris asked me how being a father was.

And I told him the truth: I believe I used the words, completely fucking emasculating...

He looked at me in an appalled way. Then, I could see him narrow his eyes and take new appraisal of me--like he was some FBI profiler and I was a psychopath or, at least, bipolar.

And I heard the wheels turning in his clueless little head. He was deep into the four most popular delusions expecting fathers have:

1. Fatherhood is gonna be fucking awesome.
2. Fatherhood is the pinnacle of all it means to be a MAN.
   
3. My little Life Force Sucker will complete me.
   
4. And last but not least: I will not repeat my parents' mistakes, and therefore, my kid is gonna grow up DAMAGE FREE...

Well, that was nine months ago, and I saw my protege the other day. We were at an event at our local bar--family day. Beer + Face Paint = The Time of Your Life...

And what a difference a couple of months makes. Boris, you see, had gotten over the honeymoon phase... That magical time when his little Life Force Sucker looks like perfection (i.e., a juicy rib-eye) on a plate.

And what Boris said to me was, "I completely don't matter anymore."

He was, of course, talking about his wife. And how she has now focused all her energy on their own Life Force Sucker... He cannot get a word in; he has lost his claim, legal and otherwise, to both her breasts... And, of course, ironically, his wife's breasts are at their picturesque fullest and finest... Their ripest! (...Boris, my man, I am speaking generally about new mothers' breasts here... Not speaking specifically about the breasts of Mrs. Boris... Okay? ...Give her my best... And to the little one!)

Parenthood = less of the above...

But more of the following:

So, to Boris, I would officially like to say:

I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO!!!!!

But I am not without a heart. I will give Boris some advice.

The advice: Lower your fucking expectations, man.

Or else... End up divorced... End up in treatment...

Don't try to get as much as you were getting before... Don't be a big baby about it.

Just try to get a decent night's sleep. Because there is something about the sleep deprivation and your crushing financial obligations from here on in that will bring out the best and the worst in both you and the Mrs... And you two will really see what kind of person you have married... Because you will be looking at each other through the opposite of beer goggles. That's right, you will be looking at each other with sober goggles...

So, Boris, lower them got-damn expectations right bloody now!

Facebook is awesome for keeping in touch with faraway childless friends...

Somewhere out there in CYBERSPACE is a server overstuffed with pictures of Facebookers and their own beloved Life Force Suckers... All the Life Force Sucker pics in that Facebook server is testament to the human need to breed.

Do you hear that, New York City? It's okay to want to reproduce. It is not a sign of weakness...

Facebook is also a great place for me, the Unit Parental, to get my message out to friends who live far away. And as you know, my message is: dear aging friends, please reproduce ASAP! Join me in the bacteria and love-filled jacuzzi of parenthood... You don't know what you're missing.

Here is one example of my proselytizing: A Facebook message exchange I had with a dear friend in San Francisco. This friend of mine, Apollonia (name changed), is frittering her youth away on all things San Francisco, and so, I thought a little wake up call was in order.

You, of course, understand my concern for poor Apollonia. Because, if New York City is full of SELF-CENTERED, CAREERIST TOOLS like you and me, then San Francisco is full of BIG, LAZY SELF-INDULGENT BABIES.

That's correct. Let's examine the evidence.

Your average San Franciscan likes to engage in the following:

1. Throwing or participating in THEMED parties
2. Dressing up extravagantly for Halloween

In fact, preparation for San Francisco themed parties can take weeks if not months of arduous arts and crafts. The way some San Franciscans talk about it, you would think they were throwing mardi gras in their living rooms. But whatever. In short, what I'm trying to say is the following: San Franciscans like to engage in "make believe."

And, let's think about this a second now: What other segment of the population is totally way into "make believe?" Well, let me give you a clue: the Life Force Sucker, god bless him, is part of this segment of the population. That's right! ...

Children! The answer is children! Children like to engage in "make believe."

He also likes to dress up and "make believe."

Don't take my word for it. Read what the great novelist Jeffrey Eugenides wrote about SF in the great book Middlesex: "San Francisco is the place where young people go to retire..." That's right. San Francisco is like a Never Never Land Ranch by the bay.

And so, you can understand my concern for my friend Apollonia. I did not want her to fall deeper into the trance of San Francisco's Cult of Nothingness...

So here went nothing:

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The Unit Parental
October 27 at 8:43am

So, Apollonia, you having some spawn yet or what? Tell the Sperm Donor to stop being a wuss and pony up. SHEEEEEEEEET...

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Apollonia Reflexia
October 29 at 5:58pm

NO! Maybe I don't want any babies.

If you can list off 10 reasons why it's so great, maybe I'll consider it.

Please list each reason in it's own haiku poem.

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The Unit Parental
October 29 at 8:43pm

Here's one good reason:

Do you want to be one of those old people who never had kids and are forever trying to wear hip clothes and hang onto a youth that has long passed you by because that is all there is? Do you really want to be THAT aunt to all your friends' kids? Do you want the stories you'll be telling ten years from now to be the same stories you're telling now? About how so totally wasted you got that time? About how you went to see this band and it was rad? Think about it! Is that what you want forever?

Plus, children are the BOMB! They love you like crazy and smile at everything you do.

There, I gave you two reasons...

Yours,
Unit

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Apollonia Reflexia
October 29 at 9:30pm

good reasons. maybe now you just have to talk to, The Sperm Donor

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Apollonia Reflexia
October 29 at 11:01pm

Think about it this way, Unit.

You are just jealous and or discriminating against me because I don't subscribe to your judeo-christian values. Just because I don't have children, doesn't mean I am going to turn into an old hag that's hanging on to her youth, continues partying into her fourties, or otherwise has nothing interesting to talk about.

In fact, I can barely stand hanging out with some of my friends with children, because they cannot have an adult conversation, they have have absolutely not attention span, and most times, hanging out with them is 100% on their terms. " I can't come over until...only if we meet at my house..."

Maybe in ten years, I'll be talking about my world travels, philanthropic endeavors, new inventions, exciting career and wonderfully rich full life.

Meantime, you'll be talking about TV, whining about the babysitter, tuition and eating spaghetti for dinner - again.

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The Unit Parental
October 30 at 7:38am

Hmmmm, if The Sperm Donor isn't into it, and you've talked to him about it, there's nothing I can probably say to change his mind. I say it's time for action; just stop taking the pill and announce the accident when it happens. Then you'll find out if The Sperm Donor can shed this whole Peter Pan thing he's got going, or whether he'll forever be a self-indulgent manchild (if I can do it, anyone can). Either way, you will know, which is a good thing.

Re: parents you know hanging out "100% on their own terms," it's really one of the gifts children give you--learning selflessness. There's this small helpless human being totally dependent on you. And your old habits have to go, or else the little person suffers. I have friends who are just "thinking about" having children, and it's so clear to me they have no idea what they are talking about. "Thinking about" having children? That's like saying you're "thinking about" having gastric fucking bypass surgery. They just have no clue what a game-changing--no, what an extinction level event--having kids is. Even when we go biking or something, I'm always like, I gotta be back at 2PM so Mrs. Unit Parental don't have to take care of the little tyke all day by herself. And they're like, well, okay, like I've just said something completely unacceptable. But just wait. Then they will find out.

And it's not about Judeo-Christianity or whatever. I'm a SHAMELESS HEATHEN. I just think there are phases you have to go through in adulthood, one of them being a parent. It truly is amazingly fulfilling.

You could of course go the Oprah route and do philanthropy instead of having children. But I think a lot of people who push it off just don't want to grow up; I don't think that's the case with you. And of course, it's all up to you. But I think you would be a great parent, a great mommy.

Yours,
Unit

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Apollonia Reflexia
October 30 at 3:30pm
There is no reason why I cannot be an adult without being:

a. married
b.with children

IMHO adults who are not married do not have children face institutionalized discrimination all the time. At work, in their families, amongst their friends and when receiving medical care are a few examples.

It has nothing to do with not wanting to grow up. I am grown up. Children and marriage just may not be in the cards for me...

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Oh, Apollonia, San Francisco goddess (well, actually, Oakland, which I hear is like the Jersey City of the Bay Area...), may the gods of fertility visit your home, may the ticking of the biological clock grow loud in your soul, may the need to breed suffuse every cell in your body!

To this end, I will sacrifice a live and genuine New York City subway rat!