With every birthday through my late 30s and into my 40s there’s been a growing relief. Each passing year brings fewer occasions to contend with the dreaded question: “Are you going to have kids? No? Why not!?”
No answer is the right answer because if this is a person who will ask such a profoundly personal question, it’s a person who won’t find any response — let alone my fumbled, “umm, because I don’t want to,” satisfactory. Worse, they seem to take it as a personal mission to convince me I don’t know my own mind.
I’m turning 45 on my next birthday and am celebrating that the days of answering “The Question” may soon be behind me. Unfortunately I fear the next phase will go something like this: Do you have kids? No? Do you regret it?
They’re not going to like that answer any more than the first one, because it’s a resounding no.
