Sex and the (domesti)city

The other day, yet another college-mate of mine called me out of the blue. After exchanging pleasantries, she told me, quite happily that she'd quit her job. I of course, took the lead, jumped the gun and blurted out the first thing that came to my mind...

Are you pregnant?

Turns out, she was, and I wasn't jumping the gun after all. So I congratulated her, and paid her a visit armed with a jar of home-made jam(concocted by the mother of course). She seemed quite at peace in her nightie, staying over at her parents' place, her husband dutifully dropping by after work. And I thought to myself, am I missing something here?

Once I got home, I decided I wasn't missing anything at all in the way of a husband or an incoming baby. I knew plenty of people my age and older, and much older who were yet to be married or even engaged.

Then another classmate had to send me a text message out of the blue- guess what... I'm pregnant :) again :)

Oh wow. That's exactly what I thought. OH WOW.

Of course I had to go through the whole 'am i missing something' routine all over again. I mean, just about a month ago, on one of her sojourns into the city, when my friend had managed to get permission from her hubs to meet her single friends, we were ranting on about the pitfalls of marriage and the number of unwanted pregnancies among married women. And now, a month later, she was pregnant? Again???

So I decided to drown my sorrows in marathon sessions of Sex and the city, coupled with maggi noodles and caramel toffee.

It helped for three days exactly. And then I got just a wee bit tired of women who are obviously having a lot of sex with a lot of people and yet whining about their dysfunctional lives and the dysfunctional men that were in and out of them (you heard me, pun fully well intended). Not being much of a fashionista myself, the fabulous clothes and delectable shoes weren't really enough to make me fall in love with the series.

In fact, Sex and the City has done pretty much nothing for me except help me pass the time. Which is what television is supposed to do anyway. One is not supposed to learn life lessons from tele series. One is supposed to laugh and eat unhealthy snacks, cuddled in bed, wearing one's oldest and most comfy pjs.

I guess there is no specific point to this seemingly meaningless discussion. Except that, as my friends get more domesticated, I remain blissfully single and liberated and free of marital responsibility and child care and nappy-changing anecdotes.

In a way, I did learn something from my friends, and from Carrie and co, simply this- that women are trained to think that it is their destiny to be married someday. But the specifics of that are variable from person to person. And for some women, that rule just doesn't apply at all. One woman's cake is another woman's calorific nightmare.

And so be it. For ever and ever. Amen.