Somebody basically just spelled it out for me lulz.
Some days, I envision a rattling old Victorian house with a wide, wraparound porch and a cupola, and a spouse who is just the whisper of an outline, a ghost. I know that he enjoys travel and can follow the quirky imaginings of my brain, that he can carry a discussion on geekery or sit in comfortable silence at the end of a long day. He shares my unquenchable curiosity for the world, has an intellect that challenges mine, and though he may not always understand my ridiculousness, we support each other’s dreams. He provides the stolid practicality and I provide the pie-in-the-sky idealism. In our post-gender equalist home, I cook, vacuum, and iron, and he does the dishes, the laundry, and the dusting. We both take turns putting out the trash and fixing things around the house. In the summers, we drink lemonade on our porch at dusk, and have conversations about life, the universe (42), and everything, sometimes alone among the fireflies, sometimes with friends. In the winter, we’ll build fires in our fireplace and catch snowflakes with our tongues. I’ll have a study for my writing, and we’ll have a library of his books and mine, comingling on shelves. Maybe we’ll have children,
maybe we won’t.
-[Excerpt from Zainab Chaudary’s (Potential) Adventures in Wonderland.]
I definitely want children.
This excerpt above , is possibly what i want, with the huge emphasis of ‘possibly’, simply because i have been proven wrong before. There are some things i think i wanted and when i got them i was certain that i was actually duped. I don’t trust the things i want. Should start with what i DONT want.
Oh guys, let me indulge sometimes.