"If you want, I can fix you up with Catherine," said John, my old Boy Scout buddy; and thus, I had my first date at age fourteen. In high school, dates were largely social events, rather than romantic encounters. In university, by contrast, relationships were much more intense and, for me, more serious.

The first girl I wanted to "go steady" with was Jean. She had her eye on somebody else so eventually I lost that one. After a few more false starts came Gail. She responded to my initial advances and many were the hours we spent at lunch together between classes. I enjoyed being with Gail. We had a lot in common. She wanted to be a biologist for a few years, then raise a family having at least two children by the time she was thirty. She was twenty-one and I was twenty-two at the time. She was "my girl" at graduation ceremonies. Life looked good at that particular moment, as I was about to start my working life as a geologist for Imperial Oil. Here I was at 23, in excellent health, with a job, a girl, a degree and parents who were so very proud of me. It was indeed one of the high points of my life!

When we said goodbye at the airport, little did I realize that I would never see Gail again. She had one more year to go until graduation from McGill, in Montreal and I was on a company-training program in Dawson Creek, British Columbia.

We wrote many letters. I had let it be known that I wanted to get established in my career before getting serious about children. From her letters, Gail, on the other hand, seemed more preoccupied on being a mother. Then came the crunch.

Imperial Oil laid off 32 of the 36 "geological trainees" (as we were called). Oil had been found in the Middle East. I was one of the unfortunate 32. Only 6 months after all those high hopes, I was out on the street looking for work. I was starting to look upon having children as necessitating about 20 years of continuous employment, if not in my chosen field, then in whatever I could find - anything to keep the cheques rolling in. The upshot of the rest of our correspondence was that if marriage meant children then count me out, at least for a while. So, as that idea was firming up in my mind, Gail was meeting up with other men since we hadn't reached the engagement stage when I left; and finally, the "Dear John" letter arrived.

So in Edmonton, the ex-geologist went back to university for an education degree with a view to try high school teaching. The provincial government was hungry for teachers and would pay the tuition and give a bursary of $400.00 to anyone who promised to teach in Alberta for 3 consecutive years after graduation. Since I was no longer involved with Gail it was my intention to live in Western Canada anyway. I submitted only one job application and was given the subjects I wanted at the level I wanted (grade 10) in the city I preferred (Calgary). My teaching career had started and was to run 25 years. Not that I thought that it would back then, but it became apparent to me, in those days the country needed teachers more than it needed geologists.

Those of us with an "outside degree" were on a shortened program to obtain the Bachelor of Education degree so only had one year on campus before actually teaching in a school. The rest of the credits came from summer school, which ran from July 2 to August 15. At the second summer school I met a very beautiful woman named Marilyn. She had been runner-up for homecoming queen the previous year. Although I thought my chances were about nil I asked her out anyway and she accepted! As a working man again I felt I could afford a few dates. Also, as a working man I may have had a little sophistication sometimes lacking in college kids.

This set-up looked better. Marilyn was teaching elementary school and I high school. She was 21 and I was 27. She wasn't sure about having children, but after a few months she indicated that if I didn't like the idea of having to work continuously, then maybe we should put our engagement on "hold". This didn't prevent us from having many tender moments together, but in the end she broke the engagement no doubt having more confidence in her ability to attract a man than I ever had to attract a woman.

So at 29 I found myself still single and very aware of the difference between being married and having children. I was quite willing to give up some of the freedom a bachelor has for the love of the "right woman", but not prepared for what I felt were the awesome responsibilities of having children even though, in teaching I seemed to have found my niche. I could finally earn a reasonable living at something I enjoyed doing.

At 30 I met Meredith. She was the same age, intelligent, attractive and interested in me. She was a gentle person and very willing to accept me as I was. I fell very much in love with her even before the long talks we had about children. No, she really didn't want children, but was so much in love with me she would if I really wanted to be a father. Then I told her my story and we laughed and cried at the same time. So, after an 8-year search I had found the woman for me. We were engaged for over a year, just to be sure; then, at 32, we were married - a first for both of us.

I sometime have second thoughts about not having children, for surely one of the great thrills in life is to have a small hand placed in yours and hear a child's voice say "I love you daddy".

Maybe I was looking for too many guarantees in life. Maybe I took the easy way and could have had a fuller, richer life with children. However, a few years ago, my beloved Meredith died. We had been married for over 16 years. A year later I was laid off from the teaching position I had held for 20 years. If we had had children I would have become the unemployed unmarried father of teenagers. Looking back on the last 25 years or so I feel for me, it was the right decision. 20 years from now I may feel lonely and sorry there are no children to look after me as the years go by. But, a nagging question persists - is that a valid reason for having children - to be "looked after" when one is old?

So, in summary, I probably missed a lot of pleasure and a lot of pain. Who is to say which is the greater? At any of the turning points in my life a completely different pathway could have emerged. I might have been a happy parent.