By the time I was 30, I had achieved everything I wanted to do with my life except become a dad. It’s not that I didn’t have other aspirations; I just figured that I would invest my time, talents, and fortune into my family, and so I made no other grandiose plans. Having reached that age, having been divorced, and having nothing even resembling a girlfriend, I wrote up my bucket list. The first entry was “be a dad”, but now I’m not so sure I want to anymore. In the gym Wednesday afternoon, one of the young attendants mentioned how she looked forward to having kids, I told her that I wasn’t sure I wanted them anymore. They asked, and I told them my concerns. I’m not really the best fit to prepare kids for the world as presently constituted. We used to be able to trust most strangers to leave us alone even if we couldn’t trust strangers, but now I know we can’t trust people we know, and I’m afraid for kids today. I’m also afraid I won’t find someone with whom I’m interested in having kids. I find women attractive, and I enjoy their company in some cases, but I don’t want to let them into my life, making it extremely unlikely to bear children. Part of that stems from my love for routine and freedom. I’ve been living in my ruts for about a decade now, and she’ll have to be pretty damn spectacular for me to do the work necessary to leave them.
I feel woefully inadequate to prepare children for success in the modern world. In many ways, I’m a vestige of a bygone era. I grew up on Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire. I know that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle used the phrase “what in thunder” in 1859. I own the 12 volume set of the Oxford English Dictionary from 1911. I own a TV, but it’s not connected to the internet; I’m not sure it’s even internet compatible. I drive a stick shift, miss 90s sitcoms, still write real letters, ask parents for permission to date their daughter, know how to waltz, and work as a scientist. Most of what I know isn’t of much use in the real world. I’m afraid for kids, for the amount of things they must correctly process, for the speed at which things change, and for the ease with which people with ulterior motives can derail their lives. I mean, we can’t even tell with certainty if someone is male or female anymore, and things that used to happen behind closed doors now happen anywhere at any time. I’m afraid my cynicism would rub off on kids and cause them to be isolated or that I’d not prepare them enough for life in this world. The world isn’t what I thought it was or what I prepared for in order to succeed, and I’m afraid for what will happen for my own flesh and blood.
Most of what moves other people doesn’t interest me. When I go on vacation, I go to get away. When I’m bored, I buy and read actual books or go for a walk. I honestly don’t care what most people think. I wear clothes I like that cost an amount I’m willing to pay. My laptop running WINXP finally died, and that’s the only reason I upgraded to Windows 10. Although I’m not in peak physical condition, I have to exercise every day, and since I work all day, I’m pretty exhausted when I arrive home, so much so that I’m glad I don’t have to help with homework or deal with kid drama. As much as I love my nieces and nephew, I am glad to hand them back to their parents and wonder if I’m too old to be anything other than their favorite uncle. Honestly, I’m selfish for my own life and goals now, having spent over a decade doing only what I like, and I’m not sure I’m the one to prepare children.
Most women make good fits for other men. Periodically and regularly I meet women who seem to think I would make a good father, but they either aren’t interested in even dating me or they want me to help them raise kids they already have. I knew a girl once with whom I was excited to have a family. Don’t get me wrong, I was scared to death, but I was looking forward to facing the challenges together with her. Now she left me five years ago this morning, and nobody I meet even holds a candle to who she used to be. Right after that, some students tried to set me up with one of their classmates, but she didn’t like me because of my religion. Either my beliefs are a problem, or they demand terms with which I don’t agree or cannot comply. I have no interest in being a stepdad or single father, so my biggest problem is the first step- an inability to find a partner with whom I’m interested in starting a family.
I haven’t even gone on a date for almost three years. I think I asked some girls out, but none of them obviously accepted the invitation. Girls seem interested in me, but only in helping them raise children they already bore some other guy. For the most part, I don’t want them to know where I live, let alone come inside my house. When I meet them, having been divorced before, I cynically worry they come with an ulterior motive, that they just want my money or security. Some of them actually confess that to me openly. One was offended when I told her I'd ask for a prenuptial agreement, which I did on the advice of counsel because he told me if she balks at that I should probably run. The rest show lack of affect in the way they treat me, that they’re looking for a different dynamic than what I welcome. Usually within a year, they meet and marry someone else. One even found someone else within a month of meeting me, bought a house with him, and moved in together; I learned that when her mother became one of my students.
This November marks eight consecutive years living in my current domicile completely on my own. With brief exception, I have lived here alone with my beagle for that entire time, and for the past three years, I’ve let him have the run of the house when I’m away. I go where I like when I like, do what I like because I like it, and I account to nobody with skin on in most cases. Tuesday night, when I ran into an acquaintance at Sonic whose fiancée just dumped her, I stayed four hours to talk with her about it because nobody expected me home or would think I was cheating on them being out past midnight without calling. My wife was the one who demanded I get a cell phone (so she could keep tabs on me), but right now I'm my own boss, my own clerk, my own chef, my own gourmand, my own chauffeur, my own char person, and my own person. I have a beard because I want to, even though I know it annoys some family members and turns off some women, because I happen to prefer the way I look with it, and it's my life. What I do is legal, ethical, and moral (not that I'm a paragon), and so most people who take exception to it are really showing that they prefer something else, meaning we're not likely a good match. A friend of mine tried to set me up with her friend who refused to date me because I have a beard. Well, that is a "personal flaw" that can be removed in 10 minutes; are yours that easy to abrogate?
I love my freedom. I speak my peace, do chores only when I like, and get to use ALL of the money I earn as I see fit. I don’t compromise; I decide to do things. Two years ago I spent a week in Montana talking only to people when I felt like it, and I didn’t have to accommodate anyone else except while waiting in line to get into the national parks. I keep my routine, and I like it. My ruts run deep. Some people want me to join them in theirs, but if that was the life I wanted, I’d already be in those ruts. If I don’t like something, I change it, but I don’t have to change it to appease someone else, and I certainly don’t have to argue with someone about it. I sleep on the couch because it’s cooler, and I do dishes when the sink fills. I never ruin anyone’s clothing but my own, and I walk around in my underwear if I feel like it. Nobody appreciates what I do, but nobody EVER complains about what I do, and I like not having to ingratiate myself to someone else. I like who I am. I wish I were thinner, but not enough to try to impress the hot vegan chick when we don't share any common ground.
These attitudes and epiphanies combine to help me feel like maybe I no longer have the strong feelings about that goal I once possessed. I regularly tell people that if something doesn’t really matter, you find an excuse, but if it really matters, you move hell and earth to make it happen. I’m not really doing anything to make it happen. I tell myself that I just haven’t found anyone with whom I have any desire to start a family, but in truth, I’m also not really looking. Sure, I keep an eye open, and if someone came along, I would pursue the possibility, but I recognize the apathy in me. I’ve been burned. Badly. I celebrated eight years last month of no word from my ex wife, and I don’t really have any female friends, let alone any I would date. That’s astounding given the number of young ladies who get to know me because I’m their professor, but people don’t tend to get to know me unless external forces demand it. At this point, it will take little short of a standing miracle. For now, it's still on the list. One way or another, eventually that will change.
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