Childless Dads

An exploration of a little-known demographic

I have no idea what prompted this post. Maybe I heard the phrase “Dad Rock” one too many times. Or I spotted a pair of Dad Shoes out in the wild. It’s just meant to provide a bit of levity in the midst of a national shitstorm. I hope you like it. Thanks to all the new subscribers for coming on board!

About 40% of adult American men are childless. But nobody ever really talks about Childless Dads. We walk the planet largely unnoticed, because to the untrained eye, we look like actual Dads.

We pride ourselves on our soft-soled Dad Shoes. We drive a sensible Dad Car that gets great mileage and isn’t begging to be stolen. We observe the diminishing Dad Hairline, and the increasing Dad Stomach. We read Dad Books, and watch Dad Movies, especially documentaries that engage the Dad Brain. We wear roomy Dad Pants—no more squeezing into skinny black jeans. We tell Dad Jokes, and listen to Dad Music, and go to Dad Concerts, although there’s never enough seating. (Do we really have to stand for the entire show?)

But we’re not true Dads. We’re Dad Spies in the House of Love Littered with Toys. We circulate alongside actual Dads every single day. And it’s perfectly fine. I can roll with the anecdotes about heroic and fascinating offspring, and how they resemble other family members, and how they bring joy to the house. I can contribute to the conversation with half-baked insights about my own nieces and nephews. I’ve held a baby if it’s offered. But here’s a dirty little secret. Most fathers are distracted and exhausted. This conclusion comes from an informal survey I took inside my head, but it feels true.

The Childless Dad Institute (Institut für kinderlose Väter) in Geneva, Switzerland, conducts ongoing societal analysis of men without children around the world. That’s a made-up institute, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Some of you are wondering, why the name Childless Dad, it doesn’t make logical sense. By definition, a Dad is a male who has participated in the making of a child. So why shouldn’t it be Childless Man? I don’t know the answer. Ask the CDI.

The Institute (again, fictitious) has determined several behavioral similarities among Childless Dads. We’re selfish and narcissistic. We don’t possess sufficient maturity or patience. Some of us may be in prison, or work as a touring musician. We’re stingy, and spend money exclusively on ourselves and partners. According to the USDA—a government department which hasn’t yet been terminated—it costs between $16K and $18K per year to raise one child in America. Three kids? Over $50K, every single year. That’s a brand-new car. Or four used Teslas. You’d have to be Elon Musk (14 kids and counting) to afford all most some of these expenses.

Childless Dads are not invisible. If you look hard enough, we’re here. We are definitely not at a Chuck E. Cheese (561 locations worldwide). We are at the rooftop bar laughing with friends, without once texting the babysitter. We are rolling our suitcases through airports headed for adventure, without having to usher little ones to the restroom. We are blowing money on books and vinyl and live entertainment and teletherapy and juice from the Yubari King Melon. We spoil our pets, and we glare at unruly children acting out in a public space. And because our house is quiet, we sit at laptops far into the night, obsessively looking up Childless Dad subjects. Who fought in the Battle of Ghent? Which year was Joan Didion’s Corvette Stingray? When did Dick Cheney shoot his friend in the face during a quail hunt?

I know what you’re thinking. This sounds really sad, and all Childless Dads will die alone, cremated by a county employee who doesn’t like his job very much. Yes, we cannot rule out that possibility. But nearly 9,000 Americans die every day, whether they have children or not. If there is a surviving Childless Dad partner, you can bet there will either be a solemn memorial, or a raucous party. Or both.

Obviously this is meant to be entertaining, but if you’re interested in a more sobering exploration of the subject, with lots of statistics, read this piece by Richard V. Reeves on his Substack “Of Boys and Men.”