Bypassing the 'Hood: Notes From a Non-Father

The question is inevitable, and if you are coupled, be it a month of dating or ten years of marriage, you will assuredly hear it:

When are you going to have kids?

Being that I am one part of a same sex union, I naively figured I was immune to this question. Why I thought this, I don't know. After all, we live in an ever-opening society in which gay couples and singles have children every day, be it through adoption, surrogacy, or in-vitro fertilization. This is, of course, a terrific thing, and worthy of celebration. It is no more acceptable, however, to ask us when we are having children than it is to ask any other couple on the face of the earth this same question.

In fact, I've always thought the When are you having kids? inquisition to be an inappropriate one. First, it's very insensitive. What if one, or both, people are physically unable to reproduce? Second, it's diminishing. The million-dollar-question undermines the whole reason we get married in the first place: because we are in love and want to make a lifelong commitment to that love. And third, it's intrusive. Whose business is it if John and Jane Doe, or Sally and Callie Smith-Johnson, don't want to reproduce? 'Taint nobody's business, that's what I say.

Before I go any further, let me just make this brief caveat. I have no problem with kids. To be truthful, I like children a lot. I have a godson whom I adore, and a fabulous little diva of a niece who can always warm my heart. I think kids are great, but that doesn't mean I want to have them. I also think venti soy cinnamon dolche lattes are great. That doesn't mean I want a Starbucks counter in my kitchen.

A couple of months ago, John and I watched the documentary "All Aboard! Rosie's Family Cruise". It chronicles the lives and adventures of various couples on one of Rosie O'Donnell's R Family cruise vacations. I love Rosie; her R Family Vacations is a travel service offering gay and lesbian family excursions. They look like a lot of fun and are geared toward same sex couples and their children, offering a valuable, and pretty revolutionary, option for families that society has branded "non-traditional". I applaud Rosie and her crew, and the documentary was both entertaining and educational. Eye-opening may in fact be a better word for it. My response to "All Aboard!" was the polar opposite of most viewer's reactions, and probably radically different even from the filmmakers' intent.

For ninety minutes, I watched these gay and lesbian couples, some with children, some without, go about their lives with their families. They all relayed their unique stories of how their families came to be. Some of the pairings were in the early stages of pre-parenthood, planning their future little ones, calling their in-vitro clinics, and discussing the courses their lives would take once they became proud parents. I found all of these people very brave and smart, but a realization hit me like a tidal wave as I watched.

I couldn't identify with any of them.

Never in my life have I wanted a child as much as these fine folks. Never have I even thought of parenthood that much. Never have I seen myself in any of their roles, be it mother or father or grandparent. Never have I felt the paternal/maternal urge that most people feel at some point in life. A sea had risen up between myself and the child-seeking, child-rearing, child-focused world. Actually, I don't think it suddenly rose up; I think the sea was always there, and it took watching this movie for me to recognize it for what it is.

I simply don't want to be a father. I've never wanted to be one. I've never imagined myself with children. It has never, for an instant, been a notion I've seriously pondered. I am many things. A father is not one of them.

Luckily, John and I agree on this. We've both gone through stages where the idea of parenthood has presented itself, but those stages inevitably pass when confronted with the cemented knowledge that we simply don't wish to be parents. We've made a conscious decision not to have kids. We're more than OK with that.

The suggestion that the sole reason to marry is to multiply is one asserted only by various religions, repressive governments, or societal necessity. It's not a suggestion of the heart or mind; it's a guideline set forth by external hierarchies. I would even suspect that in the time of the Cro Magnon, the purpose of a union was to produce more hunter/gatherers for the tribe. And perhaps also a great food source for the long winter months. Maybe that's where "It tastes like chicken" comes from.

Seriously though, while I've not envisioned myself with human offspring, I've always imagined I would have a family of animals. Dogs, cats, even a pig or two. It's no secret I prefer animals to people anyway, so this of course makes a lot of sense. I guess you could say that when it comes right down to it, I'd rather raise the stork than the baby.