Everyone’s fantasy of what happiness looks like is different, isn’t it? And mine is having the least amount of responsibilities and obligations on my plate.
Kids, without question, fall into the “responsibilities and obligations” category, and I don’t want them served on my allegorical “happy platter.” No thank you. I’ve got enough problems, so I don’t need a new pile of ‘em thanks to the brand spankin’ new human being I’ve yanked out of my hoo-ha.
I don’t want children. Like at all.
The same way I’m undeniably adamant with you, dear reader, about how passionate I am about living a childfree life is the same energy I bring to first dates when the ol’ “Do you want kids?” question comes up.
I prefer to bring up my childfree lifestyle right away so I don’t waste anyone’s time, you know?
But for some strange reason, "breeder men," as I like to call 'em, NEVER believe me when I say I don’t want kids. Here are the three ridiculous types of men I’ve encountered this year while dating:
The “You’ll Eventually Change Your Mind” Type
So one day, I met a guy for a date at a delicious eatery in New York City. I’m wolfing down my "Angry Pasta," as it's named on the menu, and he’s slobbering all over his "Spiked Caesar Salad."
Now I'm not saying the date was “Oh my god, I wish I had a friend on standby to fake an emergency” bad, but it definitely wasn’t “I want to see him again ... for like the rest of my life” good either.
“Do you want to have kids?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t,” I replied.
And there goes that look that’s a perfect mélange of curiosity and confusion that’s plastered all over his face – I call it the “curfusion face.” I see it all the time when I discuss my childfree ways.
“WHY do you not want to have kids?” he asked.
“I want to be as happy as possible and that means having less weight on my shoulders,” I replied. And he nodded with an expression that seemed to say, "Okay, I guess that makes sense."
“Why do you WANT kids?” I shot back.
“I, er, I guess I want to have a legacy. You know, continue my last name and shit,” he replied.
Describing the so-easy-a-caveman-can-do-it act of jizzing a load in someone’s cooch to beget a baby as a “legacy” seems rather vainglorious, no? I mean come on, they call the technological impact of Steve Jobs a “legacy,” as well as the influence of Martin Luther King Jr. a “legacy.” Your local family pizzeria that’s been serving the community for decades is a "legacy."
But he wants to bestow the “legacy” word on his ability to breed? Er, okay.
Just call it what it is. You want to keep the family name going, and that’s fine with me! But a "legacy"? IDK 'bout that!