"i want at least 7,"

says my best friend who i've agreed to marry if we both remain single in 2 years.

"oh my god!!!" i cover my ears.

he laughs, clearly enjoying inflicting mental anguish on some1 he knows is petrified of getting preggers and bringing little people into this sad world. i hope he's just trying to amuse himself by annoying me on purpose, which he does when he's in a playful mood.

"good luck to my vagina," i tell myself.

"why do you say that?" he asks, laughing still.

"you're cute, but 7 is too many!" i complain.

"okay," he smirks, "6."

really, good luck to me.