What I Regret About Being Childfree
So this list was originally written as a response to a rather persistent troll on another website, who tried to insist that the childfree (namely, me) are envious of her life as a grandmother (by her own admission, breeding is about all she ever did with her life,) and secretly regret being childfree. I won’t go into details on the attention-seeking troll who is clearly projecting, because it really doesn’t matter. My list of “regrets” was well-received among a few CF communities I’m part of, so I’ll post it here. (Warning: Snark.)
I regret that I know what I want out of life, and what I don’t. I regret that I have the ingenuity, intelligence, and courage to set my own course in life. I regret that I make solid plans and responsible decisions. I regret that I have and the motivation and will to do the right thing. I regret that I don’t just mindlessly follow the herd like any lazy, unimaginative cow.
I regret that I have done amazing, worthwhile things with my life. I regret that I’ve served my country proudly, gotten a pilot’s license, competed in and won art competitions, traveled the world, and generally do all the things most people only dream of, and all by the age of 24. Similarly, I deeply regret that my future remains bright and open, such that I can continue to do even more with my life. I regret that my life is one of freedom, accomplishment, and potential rather than conformity, monotony, and resignation.
I regret that I can say more about my life and how I lived it than “I bred.” I regret that I don’t have to desperately try to convince myself that breeding, which any rat can do, somehow counts as an accomplishment, that I haven’t just wasted my only life.
I regret having a healthy, fit, thin body, complete with perky (though admittedly small) breasts, an unmarred abdomen, and a tight vagina that has never been ripped apart. I regret that I maintain a youthful appearance, rather than appearing a full decade older due to the ravages of childbirth and tedium of parenting. I regret that I can dress fashionably, rather than in spit-up encrusted sweats, and that I can sport attractive hairstyles rather than “mom-cuts.”
I regret that I have the intelligence to figure out how birth control works, and therefore never had to go through pregnancy. I regret that I have never looked nor felt like a bloated whale. I regret not puking my guts out or pissing myself. I regret not being a burden on my employer or co-workers. I regret not having my insides ripped apart. I regret not shitting myself in a room full of on-lookers. And I regret not having nasty vaginal discharges before and after the delivery, just like I regret not pissing myself every time I sneeze or cough. I regret not looking or feeling like a deflated balloon.
I regret not being covered in the bodily fluids or wastes of useless sacks of human flesh. I also regret enjoying peaceful slumber every night, not interrupted by screeching shit-factories. I regret that I never have to listen to stomping feet, annoying babbling, stupid questions, constant demands, inane commentary, screaming, crying, or slamming doors. I regret living peacefully and unburdened.
I really regret having an actual healthy and happy relationship with my boyfriend, which I don’t have to blatantly lie about for the sake of appearances I regret that all of our sexual escapades are real, rather than fabricated for boasts that no one actually believes anyway. Yes, indeed, I regret that our relationship is not strained or destroyed by children, just as I regret the fact that we’re together because we want to be, rather than resentfully being stuck together “for the children.”
I regret having a well-paying, agreeable job, the earnings from which I actually get to keep rather than waste on children and their needs. I regret too that I actually get to work where I want, when I want, rather than having to structure (derail) my schedule and career path around children. I regret that I don’t have to take crappy jobs I don’t want due to the restrictions having children would inflict upon me, or their financial burden.
I regret that I live in a nice, large home, in a nice part of town, rather than having to settle for a smaller, less-appealing one due to budget constraints brought on by children. Yes, I regret being a home-owner at 23, and that I do not have to share my home with anyone, child or adult, other than my partner (no room-mates, like you have.) I also regret that my home is clean, and quiet, and that I can own nice things without worrying about them being broken.
I regret that I now type from my custom-built, high-performance gaming PC, which is neither covered in childen’s boogers, nor needs to be shared. I regret too that I keep my PC in my own home office, which has not been converted into a nursery. I regret that while all computers and capable consoles in our home connect to our wireless network, I only have my boyfriend to compete with.
I regret that I have a hot tub in my yard instead of some garish, plastic kinder-crap. I regret that my typical free-time resembles what other people consider a rare vacation treat. I also regret that I drive around in a classic sportscar, which enthusiasts often try to buy off me, rather than some ugly, mess-UV. I regret that I can just get in my car and go whenever I want, without having to deal with the hassle of kids and their accessories, or deal with their whining.
I regret that I never get calls from school about bullying or being bullied, about grades, or about attendance. I regret that I never have to pretend to care about lame school functions. I regret that my day doesn’t have to revolve around a school I don’t attend.
I regret that there is no one around to smash all breakable objects in the house, attempt to feed inappropriate items into disk drives, draw all over the walls, hit baseballs through my windows, flush toys down the toilet, or scratch up my car. I regret that there is no one around to steal my things or my money. I regret there is no one around to cause my car insurance to skyrocket in cost or to actually crash my car while borrowing it or “borrowing” it. I regret that I do not have to hide or lock up adult items in my home. I regret that I have no one for the police to return to my front door at 3am.
Yes, I regret that I’m not forcing new people into an ultimately doomed existence, perpetuating the cycle of misery, suffering, and death, to people I would, supposedly, love. I regret that I’m not forcing new people to live, knowing full well that they will die. I also regret that I’m not placing further burden on the world, hastening its destruction, for the sake my petty whims.
I regret that I actually have a life. I am productive and happy. I regret that I have friends and family, and that we get to talk about things that are actually interesting instead of tedious child news. I regret being successful. And I regret that I don’t have to troll pages where I clearly don’t belong just for attention.
Yes, moms who think I’m jealous of you, I regret being childfree and envy your existence. You go right ahead and believe that if it makes you feel better. I’ll just be here, laughing.
To the childfree, tell me, what do you “regret” about being childfree?