Baby Proof

On the flip side, I knew I could be automatically disqualified for long-term consideration as I had with so many guys in my recent past. After all, most people women and men view not wanting kids as a deal breaker. At the very least, I risked coming across as cold and selfish, two traits that don’t top the list of “what every man wants.”


But in the messy world of dating, I had grown to favor candor at the expense of positioning and posturing. It was a nice advantage of not wanting kids. I wasn’t up against that infamous clock. Nor was I about checking the boxes on a blueprint of life. As a result, I could afford total honesty. Full disclosure even on first dates.

So after I floated the kid issue out there with Ben, I held my breath, fearing that familiar, critical look. But Ben was all smiles as he exclaimed, “Neither do I!” in that jubilant and marveling tone people adopt when they’ve just stumbled upon a staggering coincidence. Like the time I ran into my third-grade teacher at a pub in London. Maybe the chances of being on a first date and discovering that neither party wants children aren’t quite as slim as sitting on a barstool on the other side of the ocean, sipping a pint, and glancing up to see a teacher you haven’t run across in two decades. But it’s certainly not every day that you can find someone who wants to have a monogamous, meaningful relationship but also opt out of the seemingly automatic choice to experience the magical world of parenthood. Ben’s expression seemed to register an understanding of all of this.

“Have you ever noticed how couples discuss the merits of having children early versus late?” he asked me earnestly.

I nodded as I tried to pinpoint his eye color a pleasant combination of pale green and gray outlined with a dark ring. He was handsome, but beyond his fine nose, thick hair, and broad, muscular build was that incandescent intangible my best friend, Jess, calls the “sparkle factor.” His face was alive and bright. He was the kind of man you see on the subway and wish you knew, your eyes uncontrollably darting to his left ring finger.

Ben continued, “And how the main feature of each scenario is freedom? The freedom that either comes early in life or late in life?”

I nodded again.

“Well,” he said, pausing to sip his wine. “If the best part of having kids early is getting it over with, and the best part about having kids late is putting off the drudgery, doesn’t it follow that not having kids at all is the best of both worlds?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, raising my glass to toast his philosophy. I envisioned us defying the forces of nature together (the stuff about man wanting to sow his seed and woman wanting to grow life inside of her) and bucking the rules of society that so many of my friends were blindly following. I knew I was getting way ahead of myself, imagining all of this with a man I had just met, but by the time you reach thirty-one, you know immediately if a guy has potential or not. And Ben had potential.

Sure enough, the rest of our dinner went exceptionally well. No awkward lulls in the conversation, no red flags or annoying mannerisms. He asked thoughtful questions, gave good answers, and sent interested but not eager signals. So I invited him back to my apartment for a drink something I never do on a first date. Ben and I did not kiss that night, but our arms touched as he flipped through a photo album on my coffee table. His skin felt electric against mine, and I had to catch my breath every time he turned a page.

The next day Ben called me just as he said he would. I was giddy when his name lit up my caller ID, and even more so when he announced, “I just wanted to tell you that that was far and away the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

I laughed and said, “I agree. In fact, it was better than most of my second, third, and fourth dates.”

We ended up talking for nearly two hours, and when we finally said good-bye, Ben said what I had just been thinking—that the call felt more like five minutes. That he could talk to me forever. One can hope , I remember thinking.

Emily Giffin's books