Books. Ever since I can remember I was surrounded by books. Stories, novels and heroic epics. Semi-scientific, technical and guides were among them. The collections grew, every unanswered question produced a book, every curiosity was expended and every doubt challenged. So who am I? I’m Jan and I didn’t like to read till I was about twenty-two. I read at about six pages an hour and I don’t absorb what I read, unless I read it four or more times. I am lucky. I am…
I am worried. My parents are the two best people I have ever met. With minor flaws (butterfly effect: where they?) they raised me. They had the answers, the strength, the patience and the unlimited love. The longer the more worried I am.
I know I will make a decent parent (father), but what about the other person? If I fall in love in a woman for who she is. Not who she might become, such as sex-toy incapable of being a good mother. Will we be able to be good parents? As long as we try and love we should be O.K. right?
There is something weird about humans I consider great people and the ones which I consider great parents. In rare case they are the same person, but that happens very rarely. I need good lucky and I always wished I could be half as good at the only job out there without an internship nor a job description and where the rewards aren’t qualitative.
So should one consider children when looking for a mate? I think so, but there is a limit on how much pressure you can put on the subject. I heard somewhere that: “Although females become mothers when they get pregnant, males become fathers the moment they get to hold the child”. As usual we do not get informed. We just get the job and hope not to screw it up, how could we? Simple, but is what we create characteristically a mirror of us? If so, screwing up was in our nature, so genetics and lack of condom made a new Darwin Award runner up, right after daddy.