The topic of children is a delicate one. It elicits an emotional response, involuntary and unavoidable, in every human being. All my life, at least the portion I can recall with the greatest clarity, I have never been interested in having children. As you can imagine, my lack of interest in domestic possibilities has been received in a less than accepting manner. That is not to say that I have necessarily been chastised or ridiculed for my decisions, I mean merely that this particular decision has not been met with understanding. In fact, I can only recall roughly two people in my entire life who have shown any semblance of understanding as to my reasoning for avoiding children and, honestly, marriage altogether. Needless to say, this lack of support has left me rather baffled and a tad worried. I’m left to wonder, unfortunately, if the extent to which the validity of my decisions and choices is limited and if I am not allowed to make such choices for myself.

I have been told, countless times, that I am “only young” and that such ideas of a self-sufficient life are merely the folly of youth. In fact, it seems to me that the idea of a young person (we won’t limit this statement by gender) being capable of making difficult life decisions is utterly preposterous in our society. A person I met recently, a friend of a friend, told me, upon learning that I did not wish to get married and have children, that I would change my mind when I “met someone.” Now, I understand that his statement was meant to convey a sentimentality that my family often expresses to me: the idea that love is around the corner and I simply need to believe in it, for, as I assume, it is some magical device that will cure me of my child hating ways. But, I wonder, did they ever consider that I am not waiting for love? Did it ever occur to them that the concept, in all its sparkly wonder, does not appeal to me in the slightest? And, even if it did, even if I desired to find someone that could complete me, I would still not want children.

To be honest, I’m not fond of kids. I can see that some of them are cute or precious and I can even understand why someone, other than me, would want one. They represent the future; they represent a world beyond our own and a time when we are no more. That is a beautiful sentiment. In fact, it is that sentiment, I suppose, that leads to my understanding for the desire of children. For, by bringing a child into the world, by raising it and teaching it, you are nurturing the future. That being said, I can appreciate the benefits of children while still desiring to keep my distance from the whole affair. I can’t give you a definite reason for why I don’t want children. I have often contemplated on the matter, but, it seems, a clear answer is not so simple to supply. Perhaps I will never be able to explain my reasoning, but why should I have to?