So yeah, I’m still trying to process exactly what happened at the tea shop. I didn’t dream that shit up, did I?

Throwing my Fendi clutch down on my kitchen counter, I smile like a kid in a candy store because for once in my life, things look like they could be going my way.

No, wait.

Ugh.

Okay, Rose, it’s time to climb back down from the clouds to your regular, boring, single life, I scold myself.

I can’t seriously be taking that guy for real, right? That list was made in fun, but oh my god, when he started making those checks next to every item…I mean ten inches? Really?

My mouth is suddenly dry, and my body feels on fire in a way I’m totally unfamiliar with.

Walking over to the window, I pull open the shades. The afternoon sun is warm and inviting. I live in a trendy, up-and-coming district by Battery Park, and if I can attest to anything magical in my life, it’s this view of the Hudson and East Rivers right from my twenty-second-floor apartment.

Daniel…

My laugh stuns even me, but I can’t help myself. Who the hell does that guy think he is?

Sure, he’s sexy in an obvious kind of way. Sure, he seems charming enough. But looks can be deceiving.

I mean, he could be part of some type of sex trafficking ring or something, sent on a very important and secret mission to abduct me in plain sight, while I remain in my giddy, foolishly delusional, and clouded mind. I’ve seen Dateline reports on that shit!

Or worse, what if he’s a serial killer? Or a member of the mafia?

I had a friend once who had a friend of a friend whose brother’s uncle’s nephew was in the mafia. I’m totally not making that up, either.

Am I that naïve? I should be scoffing at the idea of even thinking I could have a relationship with a stranger. Especially thinking of letting him knock me up.

I must be crazy.

Of course he’s in the mafia. I’m staring out at the East River right now, and the universe couldn’t hit me in the face with a brick to be more obvious about that fact.

Well, okay, there I go again, rationalizing things until they become outlandish and blown out of proportion.

He really fucking hot, though…and I’m lonely…and I want a baby now more than I ever realized. Seeing my cousins today really drove that home. It’s like I’m clearly seeing for the first time what’s been missing in my life.

I take a deep breath and skirt away from the window, running a hand through my hair. I plop down on the couch and grab the remote, but thinking better of it, I reach for my laptop instead.

Thanks to the wonderful array of information up for display on the fine tool we call the internet, there are a million ways I can research this guy and find out who he truly is. Then I’ll know just how crazy I am for even entertaining this idea.

I’m sure I’ll find a huge picture of him on Google or something wearing a Bruce Wayne tuxedo while he smiles deliciously with six-foot-tall gorgeous models and blonde celebrities crooked under each arm.

I gulp when I my worst fears come true, and he is all over fucking social media. Daniel practically owns the damn thing. His name is sprawled out everywhere for the world―and, unfortunately, me―to see.

I laugh as I scroll through blogs, forums, and even Twitter, quickly becoming addicted to learning more about him.

Seriously though…this is the guy who wants to knock me up? This can’t be real. Is there a team with cameras going to pop out of my closet and say ‘Gotcha!’ any minute now?

Yeah, this is the kind of shit you only see on hidden camera shows.

Daniel appears to have quite a selection of notable yet creepy admirers. Some hoe-bag on a forum actually says that his hair is insured for four million dollars.

What the fuck?

I scroll through pages and pages of evidence of past relationships that he’s had and can’t believe this is splashed out there for public viewing pleasure.

Apparently, he has an ex-girlfriend named Maggie, and, well, let me tell you, she’s wildly unpopular on most of these websites.

Of course, hate is a strong word, so let’s go with loathe instead.

To me, though, it’s all comically suitable reading material, and I’m entertained, to say the very least. Hey, it’s gotten me to stop wallowing in my own lonely, barren-uterus abyss of self-pity, hasn’t it?

I shut my laptop and take a deep breath. What the hell am I getting myself into? Am I actually considering this?

He seemed so mellow, so…I don’t know…down-to-earth in the tea shop, like he would never be the player type.

Ha! That sentence alone should never be uttered. Of course, all men are players to a certain extent.

They want the pussy when they want it, and nothing is going to stand in their way.

What makes this guy any different?

He seemed so sweet and charming, though…in a crazy sexy kind of way that has me suddenly fanning myself.

Here I go again, playing devil’s advocate with my own mind. I’m starting to wonder if I should look into therapy or something.

I walk back over to my Fendi bag and pull out the phone number that’s scribbled on my outrageous list of baby daddy criteria.

I grin from ear to ear, giddy at the thought of this gorgeous, mysterious stranger.

I pick up my cell phone and punch his number in, then quickly delete it and forcefully place the phone back down on the counter.

Then I do what any other reasonable woman facing a dilemma would do. I toss my phone on top of my armoire―out of reach so that I can’t easily access it.

You know, just in case I decide to do something crazy like actually call the guy.

I’m frustrated with myself as I groan and pull over a chair to climb up and retrieve my phone off the top of the armoire.

God, I’m ridiculous. I’m acting totally insane right now.

It’s just a phone call. I know how to talk to people, right?

Well, I guess only time will tell―if he actually answers the phone.

Telling myself not to do it while simultaneously tapping the number out again on my phone, I bite my lip.

I hope he doesn’t answer.

I mean, I hope he does.

I don’t know what I want, to be honest. Maybe this could be a fantastic little experiment I can test out on myself to see how far I’ll go. I mean, what if it is a good idea?

It’s not like I have to marry the guy tomorrow, or at all, but it would be nice to have some male companionship for once in my life. And if we can have a little baby-making fun in the process? Even better.

All my best friends and family members are getting married and popping out kids faster than I can say the words ‘baby bump’.

I owe it to myself to have some fun and live a little, right? I can always be adamant that I’m not looking for him to bury his little swimmers into my uterus just yet.

I mean, I think we both deserve the opportunity to get to know each other slightly better first. Then we go from there. If anything, we can have a good time for a while.

I bite the bullet and hit the call button before I can give myself the chance to think anymore and hang up.

He answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

Shit! I have to say something or else this will end with me having a meltdown where I sob in the tub over a glass—no, a bottle—of red wine.

I clear my throat. Okay, Rose, form words and spit them out. Now!

Holy shit, this is the longest any person has not talked, like, ever.

“Um, hi, Daniel,” I finally blurt out, chuckling nervously and praying that he hasn’t already hung up on me, thinking I’m a prank caller or something. “It’s Rose, you know, from the tea shop?”

“Hi, Rose from the tea shop,” he greets me back, his voice deliciously deep and teasing. I can feel him smiling.

Okay, so we’re off to a good start here. I don’t need to go hang myself from my shower rod just yet.

“I’m just calling to say…hi.”

What the hell am I talking about? God, I’m fucking cringing on the inside. Thank God this conversation isn’t taking place face to face.

“Hi back.” He chuckles into the phone, sending a delicious shiver through my already tightly wound body. He sounds just like a sexy, rich billionaire should.

“I um, was thinking about…you know…taking you up on your offer.” I wince and bite my nail.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and my heart collapses.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Daniel finally says on the other end, and I can breathe once again.

“Really?” I laugh with relief.

“Yes, I’d love to see you again. Any excuse I can get.”

“You don’t even know me.” I giggle, toying with him as we banter back and forth.

“There’s always time for that,” he says casually.

“Yeah…I suppose you’re right,” I say and pace the floor of my apartment because I’m fucking stir-crazy now, and the adrenaline pumping through my veins is giving me enough of a turbo charge to turn into Wonder Woman at this point.

I’m thankful he still sounds approachable and enthusiastic.

“Do you think that we could, like, you know, get to know each other first before we decide on anything too, um, serious?” Like knocking me up?

I pray with every fiber of my being that he’ll agree to this suggestion.

“Sure,” he responds. “Absolutely. That sounds fair and reasonable to me.”

“Great,” I say and exhale a year’s worth of pent up sexual frustration and tension.

“So, when is the beautiful Rose Flower free?” Daniel asks.

Rose Flower? Well, that’s a new one…

I pretend to be glancing at an invisible, nonexistent calendar. The sooner the better, honestly, but I can’t exactly admit that to him.

“Let’s see here…” I trail off. “How about this weekend? Will that work for you?”

“It sure will,” he replies with another of those sexy as fuck chuckles. “What’s your address? I can have a car pick you up.”

“Really?” I don’t know why I should sound so surprised. He’s a ridiculously rich guy, after all.

I give him my address, and we say goodbye, the usual polite endings to a phone call where you tell someone you can’t wait to see them and blah, blah, blah.

When I hang up, my heart is racing with excitement. I can’t believe I just did that. I’m never this bold.

I’m seriously going on a date with a guy who could be a potential sperm donor? This is straight out of some movie where the heroine has some harebrained idea that ends in ridiculous shenanigans.

I mean, let’s be real, I’m probably not going to let some random stranger knock me up. But maybe I’ll have fun with Daniel. Maybe I’ll end up having at least some of my life goals fulfilled.

We’ll see.