It's time to get serious. Grow up. Mature. Ripen. Like a banana. Like a man. Like a motherfucker. Or, as they're also known, a husband. It's time to be an adult. About things. Things are serious, man. Things matter. Things are important. You got to get serious about things. Or else what?
It's time to start thinking about babies. Making them. Shaking them. Baking them. In an oven. You know, like a bun. People are having babies at this age. Little people. With little dreams. Of big families and backyards. But how about you? Where are you at with that? No, pressure I'm just asking. Are you starting to give it some thought? There comes a point in a man's life when he has to think about the next point. And what it is. And when. Are you ready for that?
It sucks to be at the wrong end of a demographic. 29, 44, 64, over. It means you have make decisions. And it means you have to look back and see what you accomplished while you were more advertiser-friendly. Which can be disheartening. Perhaps I should have tried to earn more disposable income, or at least disposed of it in a more productive way. If I only used my beer money as a Kickstarter, I'd have a crummy short film to show for it. Now I just have a gut. And a feeling of regret. Panging me constantly.
Then again, entering a next age group is like a new beginning. All of a sudden you're the young buck in the block. You can still crush this cycle stage. Earn that yellow jersey. With your Gap Rewards points. You can rule the middle ages like a feudal lord. The world is your oyster you may be able to afford after happy hour. Because you're not a youth vote anymore, you're a man. Of confidence. Capable of making babies.
I'm not saying you need to decide right now, but just consider it. Think about it. Try it on in front of the mirror and take it for a spin. The very notion. Of being a baby daddy. How's that feel? A little tight around the neck? I'm sure. But it'll stretch out. Right? You'll get used to the collar soon enough. Everyone's wearing this style these days.
But people are having babies later and later. Outside of the Boo-Boos. Forty is the new thirty, if you like malt liquor more than beer. There's no rush. What's the rush? Who's rushing? Let's just take our time. Slow down. Think this thing through. And through. Let's marinate on this one for a while. We'll make that decision in due time. A perfectly healthy due. A fully formed living, breathing due. We'll call it a date.
What about me? What about what I want? I'm way to selfish to have another self-ish to take care of. A little semi-self squirming around on its stomach? That's terrifying. I can barely bear to be away from my cat. How would I ever leave the house if I had a baby? I'd have to give up on going places. I'd have to buy a house. I'm freaking out. Is that what you want?
It's not that I don't want to be a Dad, it's just that I'm not at that point where it's all I want to be. Which is where I want to get. Before I go there. Forgive me fatherhood, I've got to sin. Just a little more. I can't wait to be a father. After I wait a little longer. I look at people my age with kids with such admiration. That I definitely don't deserve. I'm not worthy. I should not be looked up to. And that's all a baby really does.
Which is why I got to start getting serious. If I'm eventually going to beget a child I got to be get to stepping. And advancing. And improving. I've got to figure things out. I've got to not only set goals but not settle for not reaching them. Go big or get a home. No more dick jokes. No more joke dicks. No more gratuitous nudity. It's time to enter my mature stage. It's time to get serious. And then maybe think about babies.