When I was in my late teens, I wanted to get married soooo badly that my bones ached. When in my twenties I wanted to get married so much that my balls ached and I day dreamed about what it would be like to have a loving wife, share a bed all of the time, actually have regular sex, and thought about children. In my thirties I decided I would settle just for living with a girl and having sex that would not give me a disease. When I hit my forties the burning, longing aches and urges diminished, and I’ve decided a long term affair is not worth the grief, the hassles, the getting into fights with unexpected boyfriends, the head games, the wounded pigeons, all of the bucks shelled out, the fights, the worries and so on. The good times seemed too few in comparison to the bad. I also realized I never wanted kids, especially infants that cry all night, catch every disease that goes around, the panic trips to the ER, panic trips to the doctor and the whole wad of bucks shelled out to keep the kid healthy and peeing on me. I watched married friends. I got the living crap scared out of me when one girlfriend announced that she was ‘with child’ and this with protection used, and I pictured my life turning into an 18 or 22 year nightmare. Then I discovered it was not my kid (love DNA tests) and I turned her over to the real father, who was not amused.
So, I’m a bachelor now, free to see whom I wish with no strings attached, set in my ways and comfortable with them without having anyone wanting to take down my nude pictures on the walls, wanting me to pitch out letters from old girlfriends, use pretty but awfully scratchy satin sheets on my bed, and disturbing me when I don’t want to be disturbed.
No arguments, no having to chase my ‘beloved’ down through the night because she stormed out, angary, not having to recall the song that was playing when we first met, and being able to keep all of my ugly collectibles on display and not hidden in a closet.
Yep. Free and single with a drawer by my bed full of rainbow rubbers, various oils and lubricants, a secret collection of momentos from a lost earring to happily given panties, my own bar built in and no kids.
