I have about a billion different responses for this one, a billion different questions to ask, situations to consider, paths of thought to traverse.

• I could say that just won’t happen.
• I could talk about how the person in question probably wouldn’t get close enough to me, knowing my plans, for me to marry her.
• I could mention that I don’t think God would lead me down two paths, adopting and marrying this women, if the paths didn’t connect anywhere and lead in the same direction.

When it comes down to it, though, I really have just one honest answer:

I don’t know. I’ll answer that if and when it happens. Trying to make that decision now with a general response lacking any info about the details of the situation or the person involved — there’s no way.

It’s a great question because it’s tough to answer and filled with meaning. Like most great questions, though, I don’t have a solution. Just know I’ve considered the question and, one more request, pray to God I don’t have to answer it.

More from Marshallogue:

• How to answer a pointed question
• There is such a thing as a wrong question
• Why I try not to answer my questions on Facebook

These tactics include lots of bold promises, yellow highlighting in sales copy, and pop-ups galore. Some even use fake testimonials or timers for counting down sales that don’t really expire. While I can appreciate some of the tactics, even if I don’t particularly like when they’re used against me, I straight up hate the lying.

I’m saying this because the title of this posts can seem to fit into that last group. Marketers put up these sales pages giving you all the reasons you shouldn’t buy something, trying to use reverse psychology (or whatever it’s called these days) to get you to buy.

Stuff like…

• Don’t buy this if you like being fat
• Don’t buy this if you enjoy living without any money
• Don’t buy this if you want baby rabbits to get murdered

Absurd stuff.

A few guys, though, actually get it. One who comes to mind is Chris Guillebeau. He writes these kinds of lists, offering reasons you shouldn’t buy his products, and his reasons are actually legit. He’s like, “Yeah, if you prefer to search for this information for yourself, feel free to do that. It’s freely available. I’ve just put it into a handy guide to save you that trouble. Either way, though, the blog content is still free, so enjoy it.”

[Note: Chris actually says this better than I do - I'm just paraphrasing.]

I appreciate these kinds of offers. They actually help me evaluate whether or not the product is a good fit, instead of just trying to cram it down my throat regardless.

So in the same spirit, I’d like to try to offer my own list, briefly, of why you shouldn’t join the adoption fund here. I think these are legitimate reasons not to contribute (and there are others too, but these are the big ones that make me personally uncomfortable accepting your support):

1. If you think it’s a gamble whether or not I’ll adopt: ”What if you don’t adopt? What if you change your mind?” I’ve fielded these questions a lot. It’s certainly a possibility – everything in the future is uncertain. But if, based on my history of announcing stuff that still hasn’t happened, you think this has less than a 90% chance of success, don’t get involved. I personally like taking calculated risks, but I don’t want to encourage gambling, and I certainly don’t want to start gambling with other people’s money.
2. If you worry how I’ll spend the money: If this even crosses your mind, I’d seriously suggest waiting to contribute, waiting until I’ve adopted and you can pitch in for meals or something. I understand wondering how I’ll spend the money, like legal fees versus housing costs, but if you’re concerned that I won’t spend it wisely, I’d rather not accept your money. Maybe I’m just selfish, but the last thing I want to worry about is whether or not the supporters support how I’m spending their money. Frankly, I’ll have enough to worry about without that added pressure. If you can give me money for this with a clear conscience, all ties released, I appreciate it. Otherwise, please reconsider.
3. If you don’t think I’d make a good father (right now or ever): This is an extremely personal decision on your part. Even (perhaps especially) among my closest friends and family, this is a tough question to answer. That’s why throughout the fundraising experiment, I’ve tried to avoid asking people to give me their reasons for not contributing. Maybe their reasons have something to do with this one, and they’d rather not share that with me. I totally get that.
4. If you don’t believe in single (male) parent adoptions: This is another huge one. While my best-case scenario is still to get married before adopting, I’m not ruling out the latter. I don’t want anyone involved in this who will have even the slightest regret if I use their money to adopt without getting married, if that’s the way it plays out.
5. If you’re saving for your own adoption (or otherwise contributing every last cent you have): I think the vast majority of my friends have extra money. While things might feel like necessities, it’s still possible to live, say, without a phone. But exceptions always exist. If you’re working on your own adoption especially, I encourage you to stay focused on that. If you’re helping build wells in underdeveloped countries, if you’re ending malaria, if you’re a missionary, if you’re already caring… I understand and appreciate that. And I think it’s more important for you to focus on your own mission.

Let me try to be clear again. I’m not sharing this list to secretly coerce you into getting involved. I’m sharing it for the friends on the fence, the ones who, for example, want to support me personally but disagree in principle. I’m writing this because I want those friends to have closure.

I want you to do what they think is right and not worry about weakening our relationship as a result. We’re still tight even if you don’t join this. If you’re wrestling with this decision at all, I’m already grateful you care that much.

More from Marshallogue:

• FAQ: Adoption fund edition
• Adoption fund [EXPERIMENT]
• Adoption fund [EXPERIMENT] – Week 1

This is a best-of compilation from the past 1,000 posts, as chosen by myself and friendly readers. It comes in ebook format, so it’s easy to transport. In addition, it also includes three bonus posts you can’t find anywhere on the site.

The product is $20, which goes to the adoption fund. It will only be available for two weeks. After that, it’s gone until next year.

I’m not going to hype this right now. I’m just putting it out there. If you think it’s something you might like to consider, check it out here.

More from Marshallogue:

• The community is the product
• Adoption fund [EXPERIMENT] – Week 1
• Post 1,000

For all the number geeks out there like me, I’ve published about 285,000 words. To put that into perspective, consider some of these other numbers:

• The Old Man and the Sea: ~27,000
• 1984: ~90,000 words
• Twilight: ~115,000 words
• Moby Dick: ~212,000 words

In other words, I’ve written the equivalent of three novels.

I’m not saying this to brag. The average post here contains just 285 words, and probably none could get published traditionally. I’m saying it more like, “Yeah, if you write a little every day, eventually you turn into a writer.”

When I first started this, I had no idea I’d last this long or come this far. I started this simply as an experiment. It’s become much more than that now. So I’m celebrating.

Also, in conjunction with this occasion and the continuing adoption fund (where you can show your appreciation), I decided to offer my first products here. But we’ll get into that soon enough…

For now, thank you.

Thank you for reading and responding and following and caring. I’d like to say I’d write regardless of what anyone else does, and maybe that’s true. But it sure makes it a lot more fun and interesting and meaningful with you around.

As always, I appreciate you more than you know. Thank you so much.

More from Marshallogue:

• I'm going to post in the morning
• Happy 25th!
• Adoption fund [EXPERIMENT] – Week 1

Turns out, we did. We named the dog “Diego,” after San Diego.

He became my dog. I fed him and took care of him as part of my morning chores. He lived outside all the time, so I’d go out there to feed him in the cold and all that. We had a fenced in backyard, which made for a nice, easy place for him to stay.

Until one day, he got out. I guess he’d escaped a few times before. But this time as my mom brought him back, he bit her. It was kind of a big deal. She visited the doctor to check for rabies and everything.

After that, she didn’t want to keep Diego. I don’t remember the timing specifically, but it happened shortly after my brother, William, was born. She didn’t want anything like that to happen to him.

So, after talking it over with my dad, they decided they needed to get rid of him. I don’t remember where he went or who ended up getting him. I think someone at Sam’s Club saw him in the car and asked my dad about him, and that’s how we ended up finding Diego a new home.

But he was my dog, the first pet I can remember having. I remember my dad asking if I wanted to go out to the station wagon to say goodbye to him. I said no. I just stayed inside. I never said goodbye.

I just cried. Even years later, I remember waking up at night and missing him or thinking about him while trying to get to sleep.

That’s the fourth phase.

More from Marshallogue:

• My history of crying – Phase I
• My history of crying – Phase III
• My history of crying – Phase II