That is: All women want children—as one gynecologist told me, "That's what we're here for."But I don't want to.I stayed with my first serious boyfriend for seven years.I met wonderful, interesting men, who showed me parts of New York I hadn't known—all very rom-commy and joyful. However I put my disinterest in children, these men would eventually tell me how much wanted babies (more than one told me how beautiful I would look pregnant). So I took it a step further and explained how terrified I was, physically and mentally, to be pregnant, to care for needy small humans.
They put my health and theirs at risk—attempting to impregnate me against my will, purposefully.When we broke up and I entered the NYC dating carousel, I was 30 and had no idea what I was doing.But, contrary to all the horror stories I'd heard, I had fun.After a few dates with a new man, the inevitable would happen: "You will be such a great mom."Baffled, I'd then be left with my gabbling mouth (I'm not talented with the pithy response).Once again, I'm expected to say my scripted part, smile, and everyone will know exactly where they stand.