“Are you a parent, by any chance?”
“Nah, but years of observation have given me all the tricks I’ll ever need and the resolute determination that hell no, I don’t want to deal with my own little terrors.” [Name] shuddered. “Kids are great. When they aren’t mine, that is.” -- RecklessPrudence
In days of yore, the oldest daughter was always considered a prize of a wife. She was already accustomed to looking after everyone else, and doing a majority of the household tasks. She was, to use a crude term, 'broken in'. And these days, there's a certain amount of... call it avarice... that shines in a man's eyes when I tell him I'm the oldest girl in a family of twelve.
Lucky for me I'm gay as hell. But even when I announce that I'm gay first, there's still this... greed. As if they can make me be the ideal of this perfect housewife circa nineteen fifty something. Gay or no gay. I can't even call them out on it because they are completely unaware that they are making that face.
And in the shopping areas, I'm nice to random kids automatically. Like... Sure, I used to volunteer at the local library and read to the kiddies in the kiddie corner. And I remember vast portions of my childhood and I know damn well what kids could and can get up to. Hell, even when I'm home alone, I still turn pot handles away from the edge because I'm so used to little hands grasping for what they should never touch. But I'm never having one of my own.
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