Hi from a happy nonparent who dodged a bullet, after trying to shoot himself in the foot.

I was willing to have kids with my ex. She wanted hundreds and I wanted none, so we agreed to two. We were both atheists but because she loved Jewishness more than many religious Jews do, we planned other compromises, too, like not circumcising any boys, yet agreeing our children could go to a synagogue school if that was the better education wherever we ended up living.

I worked hard to overcome never liking children. I began playing more with each of our families' nephews and nieces. I helped manage a birthday party for a roomful of rug rats, was complicit in dressing a Barbie. Ex and I enjoyed (very much enjoyed) condomless sex at the safest time of each month, deciding that what happened would happen.

And then it hit me: being with the best-behaved, most motivated, happiest of the children I was becoming more parental with was as unpleasant being as the with worst-behaved, most narcissistic, most miserable one. Just because I was becoming good at caring for kids didn't mean I looked forward to it. I began imagining enjoying parenthood only during break times, like working or volunteering between naps and feedings.

We loved each other so much, in what had become the two best years of my life till then. But I could not share her love of children.

After her I met my now spouse, who, like me, never wanted kids. When I got a vasectomy within a year, a mutual friend made this shirt for me.