Do you have kids?

I often get a mixture of responses when I tell people that “yes, I am 40 and I don’t have any kids” (that I know about).

The most common response by someone that has kids is bewilderment, as if they can’t fathom the concept of *not* having kids, or why anyone in their right mind wouldn’t have children. I’m not sure if it’s because they are envious or if they really just don’t understand the concept of not being a breeder.

Which brings me to the second most common response – again by those who have kids – envy. You can see that glassy eyed look in their eye. They are thinking about all the times that they couldn’t go out and do something because they had kids. They are thinking about the 1976 Les Paul that their five-year-old destroyed. They are thinking about what they could really do with that money that is going towards a college education for someone that tells them to fuck off every day.

Occasionally I get the high-five by someone that either never wanted kids, either, or by someone who has kids, but never really wanted them. They did it because they weren’t very lucky (i.e. read responsible), or because it was the right thing to do if you wanted to be “normal” in society. You know, 2.5 kids, a white picket fence and mini-van (hey man, soccer moms / MILFS are hot!).

And the last response I get is one of understanding that while that person may not agree with my lifestyle they recognize that people are different.

But no, I just never wanted them. I don’t hate kids. In fact, I often have a blast when I go play with all my other friends’ kids. We get into trouble and we have fun. And after I get them really wound up, I go home and have a beer. I’m a selfish bastard – I have my toys and my time. If I want to go out, I go out. I don’t worry about having a babysitter and I don’t worry that my guitars are sitting out.

I once heard that you know you are ready for kids when you don’t feel like going out anymore. I’m not there yet, and don’t think I’ll ever be.