As much as I love my new niece, I don’t think I want to give her mother the opportunity to be an aunt of her own any time soon.
There’s a variety of reasons for this, despite the fact I’m slowly but surely approaching that age where breeding a guttersnipe may produce something along the lines of, say, Corky Thatcher. With people not currently residing in Egypt being rather milquetoast today, I’m not comfortable knowing that I may have to kill someone else’s child should they ever try to lay a hand on my own offspring (or train my seed to knock a bully the fuck out should they ever have the gall to try something). That issue alone also brings up the rather arduous task of raising a child in today’s electronically saturated society, where schools have replaced kickball with an XBox Kinect.
Does anybody else remember the game of carom? That was my shit.
Then there’s the whole issue with, should you even attempt to Sanctified Slide out of your sperm recipient’s  good graces, you could get hit with the legal Hand Of God so fiercely that that bottle of pills may seem like a viable option, which in turn alters the idea of having a dual-parent household which in turn screws up the idea of wanting to settle down with that special someone for the rest of your life. Me, I’m keeping hope alive that I’d actually be successful
pulling a fast one on a chick finding that special woman to bear my children. However, I’m not just going to dump my DNA into any old womb (which seems to be the case if you particularly work in the urban music field), lest I want to be caught up in some patrilineal problems.
Therein lies the problem. As much as I would want to be a father I would only be one with my future wife, and I’m flat-out bothered by the fact that I could fuck around and end up with a slovenly, unscrupulous woman as a mother to my child (not that I ever plan or actually want to, but it could happen) and end up like some of my favorite rappers of all time: either knee-deep in child support payments (Nas), the subject of constant ridicule from, well, everybody (once again, Nas) or locked up for months because I was unable to pay/skipped out on paying the absurdly high monthly payments (Scarface).
So what’s a person to do?
Well, seeing as how my current living situation closely resembles that of the golden-voiced former hobo Ted Williams, I think I’m going to enjoy being an uncle for a little while longer. I do want to be a father, however (when have you ever heard a grown-ass man say that?), yet that will happen when it needs to. Or if the rubber breaks. And the Plan B pill inexplicably doesn’t work after that.
 Note: Part of why women were created was for this purpose. No shots.