The pain of being the single friend

By Nita

I just realised I am my friends’ only single friend which makes me the forever auntie. I keep wondering how this happened since at one point we lived the same lives.

Now I am the auntie while everyone else is mommy.
Have you ever noticed that a mother will respond to anyone who calls her mummy without thinking about it? Last weekend, we had some sort of reunion at Wendy’s house warming.

Since it was a family affair and the place is big enough to accommodate the numbers, Wendy and her husband encouraged us to bring our children and spouses along. Since I do not have either of those requirements I took along my cool sense which I knew I would need to get through the evening.
As soon as I entered the gate, my motherless eyes saw what looked like an army of children. There were children of all shapes, colours and sizes tugging at my clothes for attention, offering cheeks to be kissed and heads to be patted.

Apart from a realisation that here was a new generation that will always look up to me as an elder, I was struck by how those children could comfortably call the other women mommy even if they were not their mothers then turn around and call me auntie. I felt somehow discriminated against. True, I have no child yet but how did those little munchkins know that? Do they have a child-radar of sorts? As I was still trying to come to grips with this haunting realisation, the conversations started.

My friends’ topics of conversations are always centred on what their husbands did or did not do and the ingenuity of their progeny. I found myself fighting the instinct to tell them that their stories were not as interesting as they thought.

Well, some are actually really funny, like when this one opinionated tween told her heavily pregnant mother that she looked like she had eaten the person who invented burritos.

Since she had been stopped from gorging herself on them because she was told she would get fat, she assumed the inventor must be the fattest person in the world. But it gets old after hearing it the twentieth time. I was amazed at how good I was at not letting the obsessed mothers notice that I was exhausted just listening to them.

And then the questions started; so Nita, when are you doing the deed? Whom are you with now? Really? That made me sound like I dated men for a living. To make matters worse, the children also attacked with their questioning. To escape from the pain of being the forever auntie I escaped to the men’s side. Here, at least I could talk sports and spirits and be.

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