Aaron M. Fortkamp

I never imagined only having one child. It didn’t occur to me that was a possibility to worry about. What’s the point of starting a family just to stop after the first addition? I assured my ex during the start of the falling out that I was not just trying to work things out for the sake of the (unborn) child, which I realize now was true but maybe not exclusively for the reason I thought. It may have been, in part, because of the other family members yet to be conceived.

They published a top 100 albums of all time list on Apple Music, which is its own genre, I gather, is the common thread amongst all these choices so far, because how on earth would you otherwise compare a Rage Against the Machine album with Stevie Wonder? It’s not quite pop, not quite alternative, but probably somewhere in between the two, with a dash of hip-hop thrown in the mix as well. I’m over halfway through listening to it, skipping about ten records so far knowing they were definitely not my type. Right now I’m on the Talking Heads’ “Remain in Light,” which I’m giving a go even though I’ve never really enjoyed any of the Talking Heads I’ve been exposed to in the past. This one’s got some energy though, I’ll give it that. Supposed African influences in here, says the description, we’ll see, but they are definitely leaning on the cowbell to move things along.

I mean I definitely think about it a lot. Frequently, I mean, not deeply. The topic is broached in my internal monologue, then quickly quashed for any number of reasons. Another child, with whom? Another child, but I’m so tired. Another child, Alex is already so much to handle on his own. Another child, no I’ve had my fill of diaper changing thank you. Another child, I didn’t buy a house with enough room for more kids, at least not another kid and a mother, the people I bought it from only had two and deemed it too small. Another child, I’m too old, by the time I met someone and yada yada I’d be on the downside of my 40s, I know it’s not too old to physically conceive but it’s too old to parent the way I want to parent. I’m already older than I want to be with Alex at the age he is, can’t do the things I want to do. Another child, anyway it’s been so long I forget how to make one.

I didn’t realize David Byrne was the lead singer of Talking Heads. Also I don’t care about this fact so hard I’ll probably forget it by the time I’m done writing this.

Another child. Nope. Think about something else.

I’ll find myself considering this as I scroll through the profiles on the dating app which I will not advertise here because it hasn’t worked yet, dammit. Are you young enough to even think about children? Some people in their upper 40s who don’t yet have children will sometimes mark that they want children “someday,” which, I’ve got to assume they mean adopting, right? Or marrying into some? No one I’ve seen so far who has children and is 40+ also wants more children. Which, I’m somewhat ashamed to admit, even though I’m not in a position to ever have more children, I do give extra credit points to women who still have a few years of fertility left. Like if I’m on the fence about whether or not I think we’ll be a good match, sometimes that will be the deciding factor on the direction of my swipe.

Ohhhh, “Once In a Lifetime,” I know this song. This one ain’t bad. Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was.

I’ve considered adopting. Not for very long, but I’ve considered it. Dear reader, I do not know how in tune you are with the current pornography scene, and consider this your trigger warning to stop reading if you so choose, but the taboo genre of the moment is step-family scrumping. The brother and “sister” whose largely absentee parents insist they share a bed temporarily, just during this vacation, or just while the AC is being fixed in the other bedroom, or for no explicit reason at all these two adult step-siblings share a sleeping arrangement almost completely sans clothing and with real teenage animosity and resentment aimed at the other for being forced into this situation. At least until they reconcile. With their genitals. I’m tempted to exaggerate and say it’s hard to even find some good-old, two willing adults, just want to screw, no need for the extra, pretend, safe-but-still-taboo spice added in, but ha ha ha no it’s not, there’s so much porn out there, it’s easy to find anything, but the front page almost exclusively features the step-family genre first and foremost. All of which is to say, giving Alex a sibling he is not related to by blood has an extra layer of ick to it, for me, right now, while I remain as painfully single as I am.

God, what is this song. Oh good it’s the last one on this album. What’s next.