The curious business of fertility

I’ve always wanted children. Friends sometimes tease me about my broodiness, apparently uncommon among single 29-year-old men. But unless I’ve accidentally knocked someone up in the past few months, I’m going to be an older parent than mine were by the time they had me. I suppose that’s normal. The average age at which couples start a family has risen consistently since the mid-1970s.

I’m told not to worry: look at Mick Jagger, whose youngest child was born when he was 73. Men don’t suffer from the same biological restraints as women. One acquaintance insists rather admirably that she’s going to have children by 25, regardless of the consequences. She also insisted on smelling me to test my pheromones and, therefore, our compatibility.

Even without the sniffing, she’s an unusual young professional. Our cohort tends to have children later, if at all. Every university friend bar one has chosen to focus on their career rather than having kids.