Anyway, I made several observations that I would like to share. Not so much in the hope of depressing parents out there, but it will happen anyway. And to all those friends of mine who want children and for some reason don’t have them, I’m sorry if I offend, and I wish you find all that you desire soon – but be warned, you will change…
With exception to a few wealthy or funny men, they are all thin. And I don’t mean in the emaciated stressed out old scraggly way, but svelte.
Not only are they thin, but they are chic. Maybe this is something that comes easily to the lean, but I was dressed in a pretty maxi-dress (with a cardi to cover my bingo wings), and they were in pencil skirts and Louboutins – there was not a sensible piece if footwear in sight. The men were all in suits, but still managed to convey a rock-star vibe from behind their D&G frames, even though many were balding.
|Which ones have kids?|
The other difference is they know how to network. I’m not quite sure what exactly happened to my brain after children – perhaps it is so choc full of school schedules, healthy food options and Teletubbies that it has no room for names of new friends, but they seemed to not only remember each others names (and mine, which sometimes even I forget) but they recall hobbies, careers, notorious events, everything! They actually manage to look interested too, when they ask you how your week was and you tell them about the snot monster that had to be surgically removed from your eldest son’s nose.
|He has a serious job too…|
These people can partay to a degree that left me with my adolescence. They left the midday wedding to ‘brunch’ (can someone please tell me why brunch is in the mid afternoon in Dubai? It’s simply wrong. Should be Lunner or Dinch) where they drank as much as I could handle at dinner. Then they had cocktails by the water at Madinat Jumeirah. They arrived fashionably late to the reception, where they all drank Champagne and vodka before dinner, and then we finally received our entrees at 10:15pm. Then came more eating, and then dancing. We had to go home after the ceremony to entertain the kids and siesta, then joined the party people for a quick drinkie downstairs before coming up. I was falling asleep in my amuse bouche while they looked on in pity. We ran away at midnight, and the stragglers were still going at dawn (when I was waking up). Then they all met up at 1pm for “afters” – Bloody Marys and bacon by the beach. (I just looked like Bloody Mary…. With food poisoning…)
|Skinny, pretty girls|
These guys throw themselves in with as much relish as a three year old on a bouncy castle. They eat, drink, dance and partake in all kinds of shenaniganous behavior that scares the be-Jesus out of me. They sometimes do get in trouble, but they continue to jump off the walls like a cat on it’s second life, seemingly knowing that the likelihood of fun far outweighs the likelihood of pain, assault, arrest or death. The stag party was in Beirut, where ten guys booked themselves into one hotel room for the weekend, knowing that sleep was not going to be required. Only one didn’t make it back to the airport to catch the plane on the Friday evening. But that was ok – 1 lost out of 10 is still 90% success. He turned up at the wedding with a wedge-shaped gash on his forehead, and recollections of waking up in a car with three Lebanese blokes and no money….
These people do interesting things. They camp, they abseil, surf and skydive, they go to dance parties, they know famous people, they write, they flirt, they are spontaneous, entrepreneurial, exciting. I don’t do much interesting stuff – I don’t need to – I live through my children. Oh… I read… and I have started watching a new TV series…
But they will have nobody to care for them as they become old and cantankerous (as I am fully prepared to become – you have all been warned.) Or at least nobody to put them in the nursing home…