Had a serious what-the-fuck moment this morning as I got an email from a friend from highschool: not one, not two, not three but four people from my highschool graduating class have just had their second or third child. Considering that our graduating class was only 47 people, that's a hell of a lot. And, just to say the nasty thing I've been thinking all day and get it over with, at least I'm not spending my life supporting someone else's. Got better things to do, thank you very much. I know what these womens' lives are like - a daily round of religious ritual and child-rearing, though I'm sure a few have jobs as well. As for me, if I ever have kids it'll be because the man I'm with wants them and is willing to raise them. Kids aren't really my speed.
Wednesday night I had dinner with a friend from summer camp, in an equally what-the-fuck moment. She hasn't changed much: she's still a very odd combination of cheerful and critical, conventional and crazy. I don't know whether we'll be as close again as we used to be. It was really odd to hear her talking about her husband, and to see her partly-hidden look of shock as I showed up wearing pants, and to realize that I'm not a part of that world anymore. On the bright side, the conversation didn't leave me going "why was I ever friends with her," which is always a danger with old friends you haven't seen in years. It was nice to indulge in a little nostalgia; there aren't many parts of my early life that I'd want to relive, but she's turning out to be one of them.