In my late teens, I had a recurring fantasy of traveling throughout Europe and spreading my seed wherever I went. The goal was to have as many children as possible, with as many women as possible. I chose Europe because I have an affinity for Caucasians like myself, and for some reason thought that my bastard children’s lives would be easier in the developed world. This was clearly not very well thought out, and was strictly a fantasy. I am unsure of why, but the fantasy has taken hold of me again. After having one child in wedlock, I am suddenly stricken with the desire to make as many as possible, and by any means necessary, before I die.
I have a variety of theories as to why this sudden urge is rising in me. 1. It is a natural biological instinct to have as many offspring as possible. 2. I am having a surge of testosterone from proper diet and exercise. 3. I am unhappy with monogamy. 4. I want to have more kids with my wife, but the rate of reproduction is too slow for satisfaction. 5. I am twisted and delusional and need therapy. The cause may be one, or a combination of any of the aforementioned possibilities. I am unsure, but I know that I am bombarded with the idea throughout the day.
In a perfect world, I would have the means to have a large harem of women who were popping out babies at my bidding. And by a perfect world, I mean if I were a modern-day Genghis Khan. Would it be a healthy environment for the women and children? Likely not. I wouldn’t have the time or energy to meet all of their needs. Would it be enjoyable for myself? There are certainly pros and cons. Will this fantasy ever take place. No. Is it fun to think about? Absolutely. Again, this is just a testosterone-fueled fantasy that has been on my mind lately.
Part of me feels as if it is a good sign that I have healthy levels of testosterone. Another part of me feels as if I have too much free-time on my hands. And still another part of me feels as if I am unhappy and full of regret. I love my wife and child very much. Wouldn’t it make sense that more of a good thing is better? If only it was that simple. Childish fantasies are fun to play around with, but at the end of the day, I enjoy making my best effort to meet the needs of my small family. We are healthy and happy, and maybe we will have more children in the future. For now, that is enough.
This was the first year that I didn’t partake in a traditional Thanksgiving. There was no turkey. NO TURKEY- it felt almost sacrilegious. I was a part of the 0.5% of the American population that had a strictly vegan meal. It was complete with organic sweet potatoes, rolls, green bean casserole, and last but not least- a “tofurkey.” Despite my initial hesitations, it was a surprisingly satisfying meal.
We decided to skip our yearly attendance at a massive family gathering-full of second and even third cousins whom I only see once a year. After the experience of a cozy, quaint, and personal dinner with my wife and young son, I don’t think I’ll ever be attending again. And because of the level of enjoyment, I think we’ll be skipping a similar gathering for Christmas.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy the company of my extended family. It’s just that I enjoy the company of my immediate family more. Not only that, but we aren’t traditionalists. Christmas has become a consumer-driven holiday. The true meaning has become lost in and avalanche of decorations, toys, wrapping paper, stockings, and trees. I’d much rather stay home, enjoy a cozy fire, sip tea and spend time with my son. Call me crazy- but I don’t think I’ll ever be celebrating either holiday in the “traditional” sense again.
The holidays are supposed to be about giving thanks and spending time with loved ones. Of course you can achieve this with the traditional methods, but haven’t they become utterly convoluted? Maybe it’s just me- or maybe it’s just my family; but after seeing Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving, I’m pretty sure that most people have succumbed to the consumerist brainwashing of mass media.
I don’t care if people call me a non-conformist or an outcast or even evil. I’m going to do what feels right. We won’t be buying or decorating a tree. We won’t be hanging stockings and filling them with candy and knickknacks. We won’t be buying and wrapping and unwrapping things we don’t need. We’re going to spend time as a family, give thanks for our blessings, and enjoy each other’s company- isn’t that what it’s supposed to be all about? I feel like the rest is frivolous at best.
I’m watching my wife cook dinner. My son is on the counter. Music is playing softly in the background. I’m not at the gym, I’m not at a bar, and I’m not on a date. I’m with my family. My son is soon to be 18 months old, and for some reason it is just now hitting me that this will be the normal evening scene for the next twenty years or so. I don’t mind it though-it’s peaceful.
How did I get here? It seems like only yesterday I was in California. I am now back in my small town and raising a family. Time flies. So much of my time is spent at home with my son that the days begin to blur and my life feels like a dream. I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.
My visits to D.C. remind me that I am not a city person. The ambiguity is too much. Too much commotion. Too much traffic. Too many people. It’s not for me. I enjoy a rural setting surrounded by nature. While the relative solitude can be numbing at times, it usually means that I am taking it for granted.
Boredom only sets in when I am not reading, writing, or exercising enough. There is always something to do. If I find myself procrastinating too much, I start to go stir crazy. I get FOMO about the outside world. “I must be missing everything. The world must be passing me by. There’s nothing going on here.” Etc.
But, this is my life now. I love my small world. While it may seem small in scope and scale, it is the biggest undertaking that I will ever undergo. My wife’s company and my son’s love are all I need. Living in relative obscurity is a blessing in disguise…I can be whomever I would like to be. Right now, I want to be a good husband and father. I think I’ll do just that for the time-being.