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T W E N T Y N I N E
- Maeve -
Even with all the colored sticky notes I’d used to keep the donor profiles organized, I was still feeling overwhelmed. So overwhelmed, in fact, I suspected the feeling was why I let myself get swept into a relationship with Kurt.
It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t love. It was a distraction, and I regretted the time I’d wasted with him. But dwelling was pointless. I’d learned my lesson and now, with renewed focus, I was finally going make a decision.
Unfortunately, that was the part I was finding so difficult.
I rested my elbows on my knees and stared at the profiles covering my coffee table while, a few feet in front of me, a muted Jimmy Fallon interviewed some child actor. I didn’t know who it was, nor did I care. I only turned the TV on because I thought it might make the task at hand feel less lonely.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have started over, but it felt necessary. It had been months since I’d even looked at the profiles and, much like picking up a book you haven’t touched for weeks, I felt the only way to proceed was to begin again. But it was for the best. I was being a lot more ruthless this time around.
The Maybe pile was growing fast, though. I hated that maybe was the highest rating I’d given. I wanted a hell yes donor to jump out at me, so there’d be no question in my mind that I’d found The Guy. The one whose sperm was easily worth a thousand bucks a vial. The one whose genes would mix perfectly with mine to create an angelic, healthy child who would love me forever (apart from its teenage years because it would be normal and well-adjusted).
But “Perfect for Maeve” wasn’t a ticked box on any of the profiles.
And there were all sorts of criteria I didn’t know how to judge. Like, did it really matter what someone’s religion was? Kids were generally whatever religion their parents were. It wasn’t like being trans and realizing your outside doesn’t match your inside. No little kid ever says, “I don’t know about this Jewish thing, Mom. In my heart, I’m actually a Christian.” Then again, I bet little Jewish kids said that all the time when Santa season rolled around.
Education was important to me, since that actually measured something. It was an elusive something, but at least it gave a slight indication into someone’s background and level of ambition. Beat filtering people by eye color, anyway…though I was a sucker for Finn’s blue eyes.
I knew I shouldn’t be comparing the candidates to him, but I had caught myself doing it once or twice. Plus, I could hear his voice in my head every time I read something that seemed too good to be true.
There was one organization, for example, that had a “celebrity lookalike” section on their form where donors could list if they looked like anyone famous. And while I doubted anyone had outright lied, everyone I knew had been told at some point that they resembled a celebrity who was way better looking than they were. So while the heart surgeon that looked like Hugh Jackman sounded like a catch, I knew I couldn’t trust that criteria as soon as I saw the mess of faces that popped up when I Googled “Hugh Jackman Lookalikes.”
To make matters worse, my intuition was useless. After all, Kurt looked perfect on paper, and I’d been sorely mistaken about him.
Needless to say, the whole situation was beyond frustrating. I wasn’t scared of spending the money, I wasn’t scared of being pregnant, and I wasn’t scared of being a single mom. But I was scared of making the wrong choice and spending the rest of my life wondering if I should’ve picked the bilingual instead of the biologist. It was textbook analysis paralysis.
Logically, I knew I’d love the kid before it was even born, knew my body would produce chemicals that would convince me I’d made the right decision. But no matter how much I tried to channel my inner Finn, I couldn’t convince myself this wasn’t a big deal.
I took a deep breath and reached for my ginger tea as my phone rang under the mess of papers on the table. I patted around until I found it, slipped it out from under the profile of an Italian actuary, and answered when I saw it was James.
“Hi,” I said, glancing at the clock under the TV. “What are you doing up?”
“Just got back from Mom’s. The sump pump failed, and it was easier to go over myself than teach her how to use the internet.”
I smiled. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Everything okay with you?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Maddy told me about Kurt.”
“Kurt who?” I asked, determined not to worry him.
“And about this new guy you’re seeing.”
“I’m not seeing anyone. He’s just a friend.”
He scoffed.
I straightened up. “Is that so unbelievable?”
“You don’t have time for friends.”
“Not true,” I said, remembering that I was supposed to call Dana back about getting together for lunch. “I have time for friends.” Did Otis count? It was early days, but we’d really hit it off.
