"Can't Do a Thing Well, Leave It Alone"

So says the Paul Douglas character in A Letter to Three Wives, and the little observation has been sounding in my head ever since, representing as it does a belief I have long been progressing toward. This belief is not an excuse for always shying away from things one is afraid of; sometimes you surprise yourself, and actually turn out to be good at them and able to take pleasure in them. But it is a warning not to waste much time on activities unsuited to your gifts and inclinations (even or especially when others try to coerce you to do so).

I realize that something I have very much left alone is the notion of having dependents, other than my pets. I recently noticed an observation in one of Joseph Epstein's essays from In a Cardboard Belt! to the effect that from a very early age there was never a time when he didn't have others dependent on him; I think I detected a trace of bitterness in his saying this. It has been quite the opposite with me. There has never been a time when someone else has truly been dependent on me, and I realize in hindsight that I have avoided that. Really, it is hard enough taking care of oneself, ne c'est pas? Perhaps in the days when a man who worked hard could be fairly guaranteed of a living family wage and lifetime employment, taking on the burdens of others made sense, but I can't see it now. Periods of unemployment and underemployment can undermine anyone's sense of being equal to the needs of providing for a household.

In the one sustained "relationship" I've had, there was no actual question of dependency because the parties kept their finances separate, although there was a considerable and unpleasant psychological question of dependency because my partner's true desire (always plainly stated, I'll admit) was to live a live of leisure and free spending premised on the wealth of another. I wasn't in a position to offer that, and I'm glad I wasn't; I might have been stupid enough to throw a lot of money away. Eventually we both woke up and moved on (although there's a lot more to the story which I'll no doubt tell on another occasion).

Being gay did free me from the "normal" social pattern of marriage and children (which has been losing ground anyway, although still vigorous here in Northeast Wisconsin). Just as well: I would have been bad at it. "Can't do a thing well, leave it alone" -- and raising children is something one had darn well better be good at, if one is to bother having them at all. I have never gotten the appeal, and it is one of those human urges I can't seem to empathize myself into sympathy with. I have considerable common ground with the "childfree" movement, it seems.

It's not that I hate kids; I've been a teacher at all grade levels, after all. I've just never wanted the hugeness of responsibility that comes with bringing children into the world (or adopting them). I might have somewhat enjoyed being an uncle, but neither my brother nor sister has had or ever will have children. For that matter, very many of my friends both gay and straight are also childless in their forties; I wonder if I have gravitated to them partly on the basis of that affinity.

So no children, no partner or desire for one anymore, and no aging parents to take care of, either; both died fairly young. I have largely left dependencies alone, and life has not conspired to saddle me with any unsought ones. Many might see this state of affairs as rather sad and blank; that would be the received social wisdom. But the situation is quite in line with my natural gifts and inclinations as well as the areas in which I lack, and it is up to me to, as they say, make the most of it.