The Not Wanting
I have been on birth control since I was twenty and yet still breath a sigh of relief when I get my period. This last time though was different. I have been convincing myself that I have never wanted children, that it is just not in the cards for me. I have no natural maternal instincts and I can’t ever envision myself pumping out a child nor raising one. There was a brief amount of time that I entertained the idea when I was with my first serious boyfriend. I don’t think I ever really took the time to think about what it meant to have children, At the time I just accepted it as the natural order of things, but I never really thought about in a real sense.
I don’t make a habit of having sex without using a condom, but that’s not to say that is doesn’t happen once in a while. This last time though, it all felt different. I have convinced myself for the past four years that I have been in love with the same man. There are a thousand reasons why I should not be in love with this man, but that is a story for a different time. We have had sex a handful of time in the past five years. In all those times we have always used a condom. But a few weeks ago something shifted. We had not slept together in over a year and then I ended up at his house and then in his bed. I have always loved having sex with this man. He has these muscle in these amazing places and he has the ability to make me cum even when I’m not on top, a feat never accomplished by any other man. I think half of my confusion about being in love with him stamens from how good he is in bed. When we begin he grabs a condom, but for some reason asks if I’m on birth control. Yes we have slept together for that long and he never thought to ask, but this time he decided to forgo the condom, with my permission of course. There was no way I as going to deny the man whom I think I’m in love with. To be completely honest, I wanted nothing more than to have him inside me without anything separating us. I wanted to feel what it would be like if we where actually together in a normal relationship that progressed to the condomless stage. So when he told me he was cuming and tried to pull out I resisted, I too was reaching climax and could not bare the thought of him not being inside me as I lost control on top of him. I feel asleep that night knowing full well that his sperm was inside of me and I didn’t even try to remedy that, instead I rolled over, curled up and fell asleep to the sound of him playing guitar.
The next day on my way to work I had a moment of panic when I thought about the night before. I am not in a relationship with this man and he has no obligation to be. Never before had a non-boyfriend cum inside of me. In the back of my mind I could just see getting pregnant because it would be the worst possible thing that could happen. In the following few weeks I kept having these vision of this baby and I knew that if I was knocked up I would have to tell him. There are some guys that I would not feel the need to tell, but he is different, he is pushing 40 and I don’t even know if he wants kids. His lifestyle is surly not leading him in the direction of children but it would be unfair of me to take something away from him that he wanted. Than I began to spiral, thinking about if he wanted the kid, but I don’t and than I would resent him as I grew large, gave birth, than had another human to take care of. I started to get angry at the idea that I would even have to talk to him. I knew there would never be any chance of anything happening between us if I had to abort his baby, or even worse raise it. The euphoria I had felt that night had fallen away and I was only left with doubt.
When I finally did get my period (thank you years of being on the pill) I was relieved, beyond relieved, in my mind I have created this problem so large that I couldn’t believe it was not going to happen. But after the relief pasted sadness came crashing down on me, I really don’t want children. If I don’t even want to procreate with someone I claim to be in love with, than it’s true that I really don’t want to have kids. I’m almost thirty and this is the reality of my life. I will never pick out children’s names, I will never take ridiculous baby photos, I will never have to go to a parent teacher conference. My life will only consist of me and my decisions, I will never know what it is like to feel responsible for another life. I know for certain that I don’t have a want for children, but the not wanting is a pretty depressing realization.