duermemucho's diary

duermemucho's Diaryland Diary


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I haven't been at the top of my game, lately. I've been fucking up incessantly at work, to the extent that I question whether I'm really doing the right thing. I've been doing embarassingly stupid things, things that anyone who moves cross-country and earns a fellowship should not be doing. And that's at work, where I'm the most confident in my abilities. I still have to come home and face the facts that I have unpaid bills, my apartment is freezing cold, and (oh yeah) apart from Lark, I really have no friends. Someone even asked me that today, "you don't have any friends, do you?". I was honest with her.

The irony of that little anecdote is that tomorrow I get my vasectomy. I'm probably the last person most people would expect to be getting one...unmarried, no children, no friends, patently unattractive to most sane people...yet perhaps for those very reasons the same people might possibly support my decision, since individuals like myself should absolutely never reproduce.

But I'm not one of these validation-starved anti-child people who trumpet their choice not to have kids, and then attend support groups to circle-jerk with other childless couples because they feel alienated. I'm not doing this for any reason that can be rationalized by appealing to eugenics or population control. I'm doing this because I'm filled to overflowing with pure hatred for the concept of family. I'm sick with it; I can't even let myself think about it, for fear that I'll become so mired down in contemplation and rage that I'll stop functioning. I'm not going to be party to the creation of another person, and all the awful, potentially life-destroying events that accompany it. I refuse to let someone else have something that they can use as a pretense to resenting me, something they can make me regret for the rest of my life. Even if I do come to regret sterilizing myself, it will be a speck of fog to the ocean of regret I would have for starting a family (that is, in the fifteen minutes before hanging myself).

And bringing up the subject of irony once again, I say this as I (nominally) date a single mother who knows that I can't stay on the family sidelines for my whole life. Some might say that this is hypocrisy, since in my current arrangement I get all the benefits of a family without having to be the one responsible. And they may be right. I haven't come to a decision yet about whether I'm being rational in that respect. But there's always a perfectly safe and accessible escape route for me on that one: I'd rather be an irrational, inconsistent hypocrite than be a father. No doubt about that, not one bit.

My flowery prose is on holiday; this hasn't been a very interesting entry, I fear. Well, I'll regale my readers with tales of sliced-up scrotums (scrota?) next entry.

8:13 p.m. - 2006-10-09


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