There are numerous reasons why my wife and I decided to have kids, like learning what it means to be parents, and providing an idyllic childhood that we lacked ourselves. But none mattered as much as procreating so we could blow off our single friends, particularly Jeff.
When you bring a child into this world, it lets you experience the joy of pushing out friendships from that same world. There is no better excuse to gradually recede from the guy who will never get his shit together. I have a child to care for, so no, Jeff, I can’t call you back, or come to the bar, or hear about the used-bookstore girl who dumped you. I must feed and clothe and bathe a helpless human life, and no longer have the time to do any of that for you.
Do you know what my baby’s first words were? “Never speak to Jeff again.” And we haven’t. Jeff will tell himself that there are all sorts of natural reasons for a new parent to fade from an old friendship: That it makes your world smaller, ensures you’re no longer the central protagonist in your life, and leaves you with little time to yourself. Those are all true, but we still spend plenty of time with Pete, Frank, and Sarah. It was mostly you, Jeff, with your studio apartment above the roller rink, and your cat that keeps trying to escape so she can mate and leave you as well.
When my wife and I first discussed having kids, this was our top priority. “Do you think it’s selfish to bring a child into this world? Can we even afford to have kids?” I asked her. “Yes,” she responded, “if it allows us to finally get rid of Jeff.”
Only when Jeff himself becomes a father will he truly understand the value of pushing someone like him way the hell out of your life. I must protect my baby from all the annoying people in the world, like Jeff, and my baby protects me from ever having actually to get coffee with him. It’s all we can ask from each other.
Do I feel bad about it? Perhaps a little. Jeff is out there on his own, probably staring through the windows of families celebrating Christmas, trying to date girls who drive nicer cars than he does, and attempting to write the same short story and “really get his stuff out there, you know?” He thinks he has freedom instead of a family, which my wife and I find cute.
Yes, Jeff, you chose not to get married, you chose not to have a family. Or maybe you just couldn’t get laid in high school, and have been overcompensating ever since. Go listen to Club Random again and tell yourself that.
Will my child ever meet Jeff? Maybe. If he gets suspended from school or develops a drug problem, I will happily introduce him to Jeff as part of a Scared Straight program. So when he hears Jeff make a bad joke about borrowing the kid to meet women, my child will turn and thank me, and from then on live a righteous life.
But until that day comes, no, Jeff… I can’t go see the new Marvel movie with you, I can’t respond to your text about who the NBA GOAT is, and I can’t play wingman on singles tapas night. My child is crying. But thankfully, unlike with you, I know his sadness will eventually end.