"When an old and distinguished person speaks to you, listen to him carefully and with respect – but do not believe him. Never put your trust in anything but your own intellect. Your elder, no matter whether he has gray hair or lost his hair, no matter whether he is a Nobel Laureate, may be wrong... So you must always be skeptical – always think for yourself." --Linus Pauling
Time to clean house.
a. Have no children and desire none of same.
b. Had a vasectomy almost two years ago myself.
When I had the operation done (Only a $10 co-payment with my insurance! That's a savings of oh, roughly... $190,518.00! WOOT!), there was no indication of it being a trend or anything of the sort. I knew one guy who had done it back then. He has not had occasion to regret his decision.
For that matter, neither have I. Incidentally, unlike one of the guys in the article, I spent a good SIX years pondering the question. Oh, and I haven't joined any groups of the "childfree" or what have you because I'm not a joiner by nature, and all of that smacks a little of desperation. But what do I know? I live in L.A. If I lived in Nebraska, or Michigan, or wherever I might beg them to let me join.
So even though I spent six years thinking over the matter I expect someday I will live to regret the decision. The tragedy that triggers this feeling of regret will not however, be the one that so many friendly doomsayers in my acquaintance have imagined: I am not going to suddenly fall in love with some woman that makes me want to be a father.
NO. It won't be like that because you see, it just isn't tragic enough.
The moment that lays me low will be when I meet a fabulously sexy and intelligent woman who doesn't want marriage, definitely does want a child, and has decided on ME for the lucky sperm donor. Naturally, the only possibility of sex with her will reside in my capability of making her pregnant.
I can hear you now. "Jack, that is SO unlikely... "
Yes, Dear Reader, I know. But figure this: You do your thing, get what you want, and then (and only then) fate smacks you with a comeuppance you could have never planned against in a million years. That's how tragedy works.
What's funny is that I might already know this woman. She fits the first two criteria, and a friend tells me her eyes all but flash rapidly in morse code when she sees me in the library.
Whatever. She has many options I'm sure. Still, It would be interesting if she asked me. I've never cried so hard that I started laughing before.