This past weekend I saw seven women sitting in a circle in the park, each holding an infant. It’s a small park in Cobble Hill, where seven women make up the majority of the total park dwellers. My sister and I were cutting through the park in order to get to some lunch place that was rumored to have especially delicious BLT’s with advocado – playfully named BLAT’s. I was tempted to approach them and do a little investigative journalism to see who was responsible for coordinating such a lame outing, but a few of them had their tits out and I’m super competitive.
Instead I observed them in their unnatural habitat and hypothesized that one of those women made a decision to find and unite a group of women that had experienced an extremely similar year. They could rehash how they found out they were pregnant last August, causing them to stay with that son of a bitch who still talks about video games; how they really started showing at Christmas, and had their oh-so-fun baby shower celebration in March.
I could never coordinate a group like that. I could never find six other women who were five months celibate last August, causing them to fudge their strict personal rules regarding standup comic hook-ups; who stopped paying their credit cards right after Christmas, took a 17-day break from beer in March, and despite the economic appeal, who refuse to go to the park and sit in a circle with members of the same sex. The opposite sex? A different story.
I don’t want to meet people taking the exact same path as me. I’m pretty sure I’m heading to in the wrong direction.
The best I can hope for is to keep clear of the side of the cliff.
Never mind the whole “Let’s meet in the park!” aspect of that scenario. You just had a baby. Treat yourself better. Get a lounge chair, for Christ’s sake. I would have a lot of respect for seven new moms sitting in full length lounge chairs in a pseudo park. If I had just had a baby I wouldn’t go outside and sit. I’d be on self directed bed rest until the kid could walk and use the toilet. Advice to new moms: lay down. Indoors.
Then again, I have never been a park person. I can safely say I have never asked anyone, “Do you want to go sit in the park?”. Grass is uncomfortable.
If a guy I wanted to do it with asked me to go to the park, I’d say, “No, call me when you’ve outgrown your love of sitting on enormous lawns or, better yet, call me after sundown, when the park it closed. Then I’ll go to the park. Where I come from, the park is for parking.”
I’m a “The Park is Closed” type of gal.
Thanks for listening!
Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.