Like almost everything in life, there’s a plus and negative side. I do not regret my choice to get a vasectomy. I do not have any regrets about the decision I’ve made to not bring another human into this world of hate, bigotry, poverty, and suffering. It’s not so much of a regret as it is a heartbreak that a relationship I put my heart and soul into had to end because of my beliefs — not just a relationship, but a seven-year friendship. I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing, but I hope she’s happier now.
I wasn’t in the best place back then, which may have led to what ended us. I can’t be sure because I chose to severe ties with her sometime in January after we last spoke. It was for my own well-being. I was hurt, but I wanted her to carry on, which I’m sure she has. At the same time, I don’t think it’s fair how it ended, either.
She and I had been friends and flirted for seven years before deciding we should be serious and maybe see where a relationship would take us. She had mentioned wanting children and would bring up the subject every so often, but I’m nine years older than she is so my mind has always been made up, she had changed hers at some point. She spent time with a friend’s children and found them to be obnoxious and told me, “I think I’ve decided I don’t want children.” I thought that was great news. It was one less thing to worry about, and maybe this relationship could continue.
Maybe I was blinded by my own seeming happiness. Maybe it was my own mental illness that was festering just below the surface, expecting her to end things at any moment because why would someone like her want to be with someone like me in the first place? We come from two different upbringings. I grew up poor. She grew up privileged. Her father was a judge and I’ve had a couple of run-ins with the law before (nothing major, one of those arrests isn’t even on my record.) A friend of mine said she felt that my ex was too worried about what her dad thought, and that was going to hinder our relationship going forward.
What hindered it was probably a combination of things, but the reason she gave was when we were alone together and she began to cry, informing me “I think I want to have a baby one day.” I didn’t dare tell her that I had already had my vasectomy done and there was no going back. I wasn’t going to reverse it; not for her, not for anyone. Now it was a case of “Where do we go from here?” There was only one thing to do: break up.
I suppose I was fine with the break-up initially. She was toying with the idea of wanting a child or a couple of children. I refused to bring any children into this world; not with her, not with anyone. “I think maybe we should take a break,” is what she said to me. I’m not stupid. I have read enough books and seen enough movies and television shows to know that “take a break” is a nice way of telling someone, “I don’t want to see you anymore.”
I think I was more upset that I wasn’t upset. More than that, I think I was upset that she knew how I felt concerning children and yet she decided to go along with our relationship anyway and I don’t know why. Was she just waiting for another guy to come along to give her what she wanted? I suppose I’ll never know because like I said, I made the best decision for myself (and possibly the best decision for her), and I cut her out of my life. No more emails, no more phone calls, no more seeing her, no more wishing her a happy birthday or merry Christmas. I was done and so was she.
I still think about her, but haven’t written anything about her except for right now. I suppose this is my way of saying goodbye. Anti-natalism is a philosophy that can sometimes cost you your relationship, but I’m not going to sacrifice what I believe in order to remain in a relationship when the two of us have two very different views as far as bringing another life into this fucked up world.