This blog title can be interpreted multiple ways. The first is an exclamation of strong emotion brought on because of children. The other is a fragmented sentence that is gross. There is the third way to interpret this title that I am putting an adjective before a noun to create some sort of robot child that is meant to entice pedophiles, but I’m not gonna talk about that one.
1. In my 5 mile jaunt around Brooklyn today I passed many kids coming home from school. They are fucking adorable! First I saw two twins of different genders sitting solemnly in their walker. I can’t wait until they go through puberty and are forced to sit solemnly at the TV hating each other because they hate their own body. Then I saw an Asian-American and African-American child racing down the street away from their parents because they were just too young to talk to each other therefore instead resorting to feats of physical exertion as a form of communication. I can’t wait until they are running away from their parents because those forms of physical exertion have turned sexual and the older generation cannot accept their love even though the parents were also at the receiving end of unwarranted hatred because of societal bigotry. Then I sat in a bagel shop to see a 4 year old waiting for her father to order her a plain bagel on the phone attempting to call her mother. Though an answering machine was the one to answer, the 4 yr old didn’t skip a beat and began her response with “Hello, Mother. Daddy’s not here, but we thought we’d call and see how you were. Kisses, love you. Bye.” I can’t wait until her refusal to be awkward and overconfidence in herself causes a less confident slightly older male to fall head-over-heels stalker-style obsessed with her so her own answering machine is full of messages that she has no desire to respond to, but fear of her skin being torn off if she doesn’t.
2. I’m not an attractive man. I’ve never claimed to be. But if I dress up nice, sometimes I get checked out. I only see this because I am so practiced at “checking out” people that I notice when others reciprocate. Typically this happens when I’m wearing something eye-catching and the roaming eyes of passerbys are more to do with the brightly colored fabrics that I have draped over my shoulders than my stick-figure body and squirrel-tale-eyebrows, but every once in a while someone genuine looks at me in a somewhat sexual light. The reason I use the phrase “somewhat sexual light” is because these girls do not have a desire to rip off my clothes and take me over the kitchen counter (a fantasy I possess for them), instead they desire to take me to their parents and then cuddle me while I tell them interesting stories from my office job. Why do they look to me for that? Because I have a boyish face, an even more child-like body, and eyes that scream: “I like to play with toys of the non-sexual nature.” I’m not going to claim that I’m a kinky freak, but I’m also not going to be your son. Recognize that when you are finding me slightly-sexually-arousing, you are really just confusing your maternal instinct for sexuality.
So for the love of god, let’s stop trying to fuck children, and instead let children fuck.