In my heart I’m 26-years-old. Maturity-wise I’d say 22 is a generous estimate. I forget my true chronological age or maybe I’m in denial. I recently discovered the joys of The Mindy Project. I love that show. So the other night, I watched an episode while laughing out loud like a maniac, when out of the blue I received a swift punch to the ovaries. The main character, Mindy, tells Dr. Castellano that she plans on having four children. He reminds her that she’s 31-years-old and single, does some number crunching, and says she’ll be lucky to pop out one child just under the gun. In that moment I realized, “Holy shit. I’m 31 and single.” Wah wah.
I want to have kids one day (two to be exact and one better be a girl) but I still need a few years. Before my womb’s harsh, harsh wakeup call, my biological clock never seemed like a major issue. Though I’ve been working on my heart chakra, I don’t think marriage before age 65 is my thing. On the other hand, kids are freakin’ expensive and I like the idea of any future offspring having two parents in case they hate me. I have no problem getting knocked up out of wedlock, but part of me assumed I’d be in a relationship before makin’ babies. That idea kind of turns me off too though. When things eventually go awry, do I really want to have see the father all of the time, FOREVER? No. I don’t.
I’m going to have to convince someone to impregnate me with no strings attached, preferably by 35. The caveat: I want a super baby. Basically, I have a few years left to find a tall, good looking, brilliant, funny, single dude who is significantly saner than me. There is a strong possibility that this plan will fail. After a brief anxiety attack, I’ve narrowed down my options to ensure success:
- Guilt a male friend, with the aforementioned qualities, into having a child and splitting it. No marriage, no dating, just business.
- Become BFFs with a gay couple seeking a kid. I’ll mix my apparently shriveling eggs with one partner’s sperm and go 50/50.
- Bamboozle either a sister or female friend, who is also childless at the time, into some in vitro magic and again split the resulting baby. I mean a weekly three- to four-day vacation from parenting sounds awesome to me.
- If things are looking bleak, visit a sperm bank or join an online dating site and go on a poking-holes-in-condoms spree. This would require financial stability and the fortitude to go it alone, which is why it is number four on the list. Plus, after a lifetime of avoiding strange sperm it feels sketchy.
- Adoption. Too selfish for that one. I want a mini-me.
While my annoying evolutionary drive to procreate is like an ominous tribal drum beat in my brain, I wouldn’t be surprised or dismayed if I was the first person to birth a litter of kittens (via a test tube. I’m not a sicko).