There once was a time when I was open to having kids of my own. It wasn’t even all that long ago, maybe 5 to 7 years ago. Even when I was married, I was open to the idea. It wasn’t necessary for me, but I wasn’t against it. I have since learned that my biological clock must have been put in backwards.
I do not want kids. Not anymore. They annoy me, drive me nuts, frustrate me, And I don’t even have to deal with them full time. My cat is more than enough for me. I don’t want the responsibility. I’ve been told, It’s different when they are you own. However, I am usually told this by people without kids, or people who wanted them and love them even when the kids are not their own. Not exactly the best people to take advice from. Just a little biased.
I’d have to grow up. No more Sky Diving. No more Cage Diving. No more poking sharks with sticks. I enjoy my time alone, you seem to get a lot less of that when you have the little brats.
I am perfectly happy being the crazy friend. The one who no ones what he is going to do next. What crazy stunt will be pulled next. I’m fine with that. I’m fine with visiting friends who have them, then leaving those kids at home.
And I can not say enough how grateful I am that I did not get kids out of that marriage. Too much responsibility for a 35 year old child.