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The morning I found out I was pregnant, I ran out of my gynecologist's office, whipped out my cell phone, and dialed my therapist's number. After leaving the good news on his voice mail, I decided to tell my friend Amy, my friend Linda, and then the clerk at Whole Foods, who directed me to the prenatal vitamins. I'm not married, don't have a boyfriend, and hadn't recently returned from a drunken one-night stand.By day's end I'd told everyone from my mother to my manager to my mailman. Instead I got knocked up by half a cubic centimeter of defrosted sperm that had been Fed Exed in a nitrogen tank from an East Coast donor facility to my doctor in Los Angeles.
"If relationships are work," I asked, "when do the benefits kick in?There was also a long list of "favorites": food, car, sport, color, animal, pet, movie, musician, song, play, book, holiday, season, ice-cream flavor, childhood memory, even vacation destination.Many of the guys sounded like men I'd want to date.We met during our freshman year at Yale, when we were still naive enough to believe we'd be married with kids and a fulfilling career by age thirty.As adults we were both in a series of relationships, and although I was aware of our age, it never occurred to me that we'd fall through the marital cracks. For more than a year, she told me, she'd been a card-carrying member of Single Mothers by Choice.