I am a single male, aged 29. This statement may be irrelevant on its own and may not even relate to the issue of abortion at all. However, one must consider that as a single male (or as a male at all), I am one part of the equation which states: one male plus one female plus one intimate evening equals a baby. Or, as the Old Philosopher would say, “It takes two to tango.”
Knowing the details of that equation from personal experience makes me wish that I were still properly celibate, but there was a time in my younger days when I sowed a few wild oats here and there. Though I am no longer sexually active, I still have an adequate supply of hormones which causes my pulse to race, etc., when I am in the vicinity of what I might consider to be an attractive female. When this happens, I have a choice to make. I can follow through with the biological urge and find myself sexually involved, or I can suppress the urge and consider the following consequences of my involvement:
- The woman could be married or otherwise attached and I could find myself on the receiving end of a large, burly fist or foot. This causes me to realize that my face looks fine the way it is and doesn’t need any sudden rearranging just yet. I keep walking and think of other things.
- The woman could become pregnant and sue me for child support payments. I take out my mental calculator and multiply about $500 per month times 18 years and arrive at a conservative estimate of $108,000, enough for a condo in the suburbs. I keep walking and consider the further pleasantries of my current financial situation.
- The woman decides that she didn’t like my company and sues me for rape, even though we were both consenting at the time. If it goes to court, I face the embarrassment of parading whatever sex life I might possibly have in front of a roomful of previously total strangers. Having been on a jury for a rape trial, I definitely don’t want this to happen at all. More walking, more pleasant thoughts.
- No matter how hygienic the two of us think we are, I develop symptoms of a venereal disease, or AIDS, or at least a fairly serious infection. This once actually happened to me before I gave my life to God, and even though I only had an infection, the whole experience left me feeling orally dead inside, and degraded by the condition of my soul. Thanks to God’s grace, I have since been delivered from that condition and have been restored to wholeness. More pleasant thoughts as I keep walking and think of all the good things God has done for me.
- The woman decides to have an abortion. She asks me for the money. If I go through with this, I assist in the killing of an unborn child. I become my own God, creating and destroying at will. I develop my own version of Post-Abortion Syndrome, perhaps not as severe as the female version, but I still have to deal with my share of guilt and pain I may have a slight advantage, being male, in that by nature I tend to be more rational and less emotional, thus able to hide my feelings, but not forever.
End of scenarios. Now I try to sort through it all and examine my reasons for being pro-life and how to be part of the solution. I began to become aware of how widespread the problem of abortion was some years back when a roommate of mine brought home some brochures on the subject.
I saw the photos. Babies in garbage cans. Babies with their skin burned off, lying curled up in stainless steel dishes. Babies in various stages of mutilation from their own encounters with so-called “safe and legal” abortion procedures. I began to read about Post-Abortion Syndrome. I began to see the magnitude of the destruction caused by abortion reflected in the cold glare of statistics. The one I think about the most is the sheet with the crosses on it. The crosses in the death-by-abortion category cover more than half the page.
I can take action against abortion by remaining celibate and to exercise what I like to call “sexual responsibility.” By doing this, I can serve as an example to other singles. I haven’t been the best example in the past, and in my own way, I have suffered. I see myself as a victim of the “sexual revolution.” A fairly lucky one, but still a victim.
The real victims however, are the unborn babies. They pay the price for our irresponsibility with their lives. We must take action on their behalf.
The author lives in Vancouver, B.C.