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Twenty years from now meant retirement. Probably another job, depending on how good his pension was. What he wasn’t sure of, however, was whether twenty years from now meant a family.
He knew life wasn’t all about career, and it wasn’t all about family either, and no one wanted to die alone, but he was pretty much married to his job at this point. That didn’t say much for his chances with having a family. However, he loved his job. It wasn’t as though he was married to something he didn’t enjoy—he just didn’t know if that was all he wanted. He had never really seen himself as a father figure, anyway. The idea of having to point someone who didn’t know any better in the right direction was downright terrifying whenever he thought about it, but then again—he knew it was one of things that you’d have to be in to ever understand.
There wasn’t anyone who wouldn’t like to have a family anyway. There may be those who don’t because they know they’ll be no good as a father, or never take the opportunity, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t like having one. Flack usually fell into the category of the latter—looking back on his life twenty years from now, he’s probably going to be one of those people who wished he had settled down sooner, rather than later, but he had a feeling that he’d rather be making those regrets than trying to go overboard by pulling someone into his life right now.
In the end, some part of him is hoping that there’s a little mini-him somewhere in the next twenty years. But he’s not banking on anything. After all—it takes two to tango, and right now—he’s not minding the fact that he’s flying solo so much.
He knew life wasn’t all about career, and it wasn’t all about family either, and no one wanted to die alone, but he was pretty much married to his job at this point. That didn’t say much for his chances with having a family. However, he loved his job. It wasn’t as though he was married to something he didn’t enjoy—he just didn’t know if that was all he wanted. He had never really seen himself as a father figure, anyway. The idea of having to point someone who didn’t know any better in the right direction was downright terrifying whenever he thought about it, but then again—he knew it was one of things that you’d have to be in to ever understand.
There wasn’t anyone who wouldn’t like to have a family anyway. There may be those who don’t because they know they’ll be no good as a father, or never take the opportunity, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t like having one. Flack usually fell into the category of the latter—looking back on his life twenty years from now, he’s probably going to be one of those people who wished he had settled down sooner, rather than later, but he had a feeling that he’d rather be making those regrets than trying to go overboard by pulling someone into his life right now.
In the end, some part of him is hoping that there’s a little mini-him somewhere in the next twenty years. But he’s not banking on anything. After all—it takes two to tango, and right now—he’s not minding the fact that he’s flying solo so much.
