I always wanted kids, always thought that they were part of my future. I even had a bit of an agreement as such with a pal, probably the same deal lots of gay friends the world over have; “when we grow up we’ll have a kid together, share custody and it will be faaaabulous”, that kind of thing. I had an image of being all cosmopolitan and hipster; kids with my lesbian mate, my own flash pad and natty car, all windswept and interesting like Stuart Alan Jones. Once I’d grown up and stopped being an asshat obviously.

Then I fell in love.

I was sure I’d been in love before, I’d had relationships and had been happy, at least I wasn’t aware that I wasn’t happy. As I’ve said before most of my relationships had no real future to them so expectations of me were quite limited but anyway, I never ever felt that I was missing out on anything nor was I conscious I was holding anything back from anyone. Then I fell in love. I mean, completely and utterly fell in love.

For the first time in my entire life I felt that all that was important was this other human being’s happiness, that I wanted to look after them, care for them and keep them safe. For the first time ever here was someone who was far more important than me, FAR more. I knew this within a split second of meeting them and in that instant I knew immediately I would never be a parent, I would never have a child and I was happy with that. I knew instinctively that this was the seminal relationship for me and let me explain why.

Up until December 2004 I was plodding away nicely, blissfully ignorant to what I was missing because I wasn’t aware I was missing anything at all. I had already realised that my happiness was directed by my own hand, regardless of how I experienced ‘happy’. I hadn’t realised that emotionally I was very jejune and infantile. With the exception of my sister and parents familial relationships were distant at best, superficial at worst but at least I knew why. Then everything changed because in December 2004 my niece was born.

The moment I met this little bundle I felt my heart burst and knew in that second exactly what love was. This little person taught me more in the first two minutes of her life than I had already learned in the first 29 years of mine; that love could be pure, could be honest and could come without a cost. I’d always felt that I had to earn acceptance and affection, probably because I couldn’t afford myself any. I’ve always known that I was the most expendable of people, easy to leave behind and very easily forgettable and this little 8lb bundle of noise has taught me otherwise. From the first second meeting one another we have had the most amazing relationship. She is one of my closest friends and literally one of my favourite people on the face of the planet.

And that’s why I will never be a dad.

I never believed that I could feel anything remotely close to this for another person’s child and as simple as this sounds, I would never want anyone to take any of my attention or time away from her and latterly her brother too. I know that sounds really simplistic and probably to some incredibly unyielding but I do think having my own kids would do this. The thought of ever letting either of them down, disappointing them is a thought that I could never entertain.

Watching these little people grow and develop their own personas, their own humour and their own minds has been an incredibly humbling experience. The idea of having been a part in their formative influences, that I have had and still have a hand in forming them into the amazing little people they are now, is just simply mind blowing. They have been such a big influence on me I feel I’ve grown more since 2004 than I had in the 29 years previously. They have made me want to be a better me, a more authentic and honest me and as I’ve said they made me understand what love really is, what it is to love and also what it is to be loved.

Then came the single most formative lesson in my entire existence thus far,

The ManChild.