On those few-and-far-between instances where I find myself a male on the prowl in this City of Women, it seems my greatest obstacles are not ones concerning physical attraction or awkwardness, but a highly inward and highly arbitrary set of standards. Take last night for instance, I go to buy a beer at the bar; while I’m waiting for it to come I begin talking to a very nice girl sitting with her friend. We seem to get along, she’s laughs once or twice, etc, etc. But, stepping away for a second with my Stella, I realize that unlike me her head is not turned forward towards the Yankee game, but backwards towards the Red Sox game on the bar’s smaller television. From then on I order my drinks via a waitress.
But my greatest turn-off is not someone liking the wrong team–I mean, really, you’re in New York, darling–but that hint, that echo, that aura of someone who intends to one day pro-create. Now, I know, the girl I date today is unlikely to still be with me when that time comes; being in my early twenties, I shouldn’t be worried about ‘problems’ associated with longevity. And yet, don’t all relationships, whether you’re 13 or 83, rest on the illusion that the two of you will ‘be together forever’? If we knew that this one will only last for six months would we still be interested? I doubt it. Thus the problems of a 3 month love-affair are at once the problems of a 25 year marriage. In either case, my position is clear: I don’t want kids! 
Now, I don’t dislike children. In fact, I hope my sister has some, has two. I’m sure I’d be a decent and not entirely too crazy uncle. I’d evangelize the youngsters to Henry James, Tom Waits, and Grant’s Tomb–and they better fucking like all of it or I’m leaving my hats to charity. But spending some time with kids and actually adding to the world’s population are two completely different things.
You’d think, being in New York: a land of tough working woman and firecracker heathens, that it would be easy to find a mate that shares my philosophy. It isn’t! Scouring the females of any given bar here, is like walking across a minefield. The conversation’s going great and then: “I love New York, can’t wait to raise my children here…” Bye! , “I don’t understand men sometimes, I hope I only have girls.” Later! , “I like the name Seth, I think I want to name one of my kids that.” See ya! (weirdo). I suppose I could take out ads or start a ‘never-having-kids singles’ night at my local pub, but such efforts seem like overdoing it and against the more casual nature of flirting.
I don’t think I’ve anything to be ashamed of here. There’s more than a ample supply of humans on this rock, according to some sources, nearly double what it should be. But trying to battle this whole Biological need for species continuity is a killer. My female friends have told me that even a girl who says she doesn’t want kids is probably lying, if not to me than to herself. I therefore feel I must now look for a woman who truly despises children, not that I agree, but just to be safe.
So. Any child hating Yankee fans out there?
Thanks to Moox for the portrait.
Have you considered Subscribing to all of this madness?
I have to say I disagree with one point you made - that with knowledge of an impending end comes a lack of interest in the relationship itself; my girlfriend and I have been dating for two years (and actually do disagree about whether or not to have children) and she is leaving for Vancouver in a matter of months. We still enjoy every minute we spend together; it isn’t about the end, it’s about the relationship proper; the appreciation of the time spent together; it’s about having fun.
Yeah, Steven, I’ll admit that this–like the children–thing may be fairly specific to me. I’m unable, or at least reluctant, to get involved with Jobs, Apartments, or Women that I know will only last for a short while. I’m rather addicted to habit and have major issues with change. So, I understand you, but am unable to agree.