by Victoria Zorzoli
I’m 25 years old and my boyfriend, Parker, is 26.
Last weekend my boyfriend and I decided to go on a 10-mile hike. It was an arduous hike with sheer rock walls and little ledges that we had to traverse for a good portion.
Halfway through the hike we looked at each other and said “How the fuck are we going to get down from here?”
Next weekend, we’re flying to Las Vegas for a night and then drive to Lake Havasu to spend the weekend, boating and drinking.
I just saw an AirBNB (a service that offers lodging opportunities and homestays to its members) in Bend that had a good deal for the Saturday.
I booked it without batting an eyelash. There was no coordinating with anyone but my boyfriend. We plan on driving out there and trying out several breweries and eateries.
Maybe we’ll go for a long-distance bike ride through Smith Rock. Who knows.
In three weeks we’ll fly to Europe for two weeks of back packing and train hopping.
We have made a pact with each other that we want to visit at least one new country every year.
Some days we don’t go home directly after work and instead we meet each other for a nice dinner or happy hour.
On weekends we like to sleep in till 9 am and plan our days based on the weather, not on people (children).
If we don’t feel like making dinner, we don’t make dinner. If we don’t feel like doing laundry, we don’t do laundry.
I own a two bedroom house with ONE bathroom. It’s all I could afford. Even if we were to combine our incomes, we still would not have been able to afford much better and we are both working 8–5 full-time jobs. In fact, Parker sometimes works 60+ hours a week.
The house is perfectly comfortable for the two of us. Just the two of us.
I don’t own a farm. I don’t need extra bodies to plow or harvest my land.
I am a portfolio manager on my way to getting my CFP (The Certified Financial Planner designation is a professional certification mark for financial planners conferred by the Certified Financial Planner Board of Standards in the United States).
I manage money for a living and when I retire I will have more than enough for myself and my spouse to retire/die comfortably without assistance from loved ones.
A child in the U.S. costs a MINIMUM of $18,000 per year. That’s not including providing them with piano lessons, girl scout membership, swim lessons, summer camp, babysitting, medical expenses, and any other extras that all kids want and deserve to have.
Even if money were not an issue, you still have to change your lifestyle significantly. You have to start thinking of someone else. You can’t just go bungee jumping tomorrow, what if you die? You can’t just go out to dinner and a movie, you need a babysitter.
And in this day and age, you need a babysitter who has underwent background checks and has a clean driving record.
I’ve worked too hard, and I still work too hard to send a huge chunk of my income towards a child. I want to spend my money on myself. Call me selfish, I don’t care.
A lot of people might say that I’m too young or I’ll change my mind later. But while my friends were bottle feeding plastic toy babies and talking about becoming moms someday, I was dreaming of the mountain I would climb when I turned 30 years old, the countries I would visit, the hobbies I would fulfill (I think I’m going to start getting into bee charming too and make my own honey).
If the shit hits the fan, I can pack my bags and move to Thailand and become an expat.
Children represent a ball and chain to my lifestyle and the life that I always planned on living.
I love children, they’re beautiful, they’re the future.
I have no problem with helping children and I am excited for the day that my brother and his partner adopt their first child.
But children have absolutely no place in my life!
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Victoria Zorzoli is a history and arts enthusiast who works in finance.
