When I’m asked why I never had kids, my standard answer is, I’ve spent my life in mortal fear of being tethered to another human in a manner from which I can’t legally walk away if I choose.
That’s an honest answer, but it’s not the complete one. The second part, which I always leave out, is that I was petrified of having a tard. There’s no history of tardiness in my family. But no matter your family history, having kids is always a roll of the DNA dice, and I couldn’t face the possibility of having a child who would be, shall we say, more work and less payoff.
Yes, that’s a terribly unflattering thing to admit. But it’s true.
Folks say to me, “Dave, you’re 54 with no one to take care of you as you wither; you shoulda had kids.” Fair enough, but I’m also not guardian to some drooler who’ll be a dependent for life.
I chose not to roll them dice. The notion of inseverable legal responsibility, already a fear, was bad enough. But the chance, no matter how slim, of having a child with problems that become a lifelong burden for me was an outcome I wouldn’t risk.
Article from LewRockwell