* * *
No way.
I shake my head as I stare at my computer screen, a list of sperm donors and their pictures right in front of me.
There’s no way I want to have the child of any of these. Hell, I don’t know any of them. What if the donor I choose turns out to be some deranged psychopath? Or what if he has some rare, ugly disease?
No, a sperm donor isn’t going to cut it. Besides, my Mom said she wants me to have a family of my own, not to just pop a baby out. And if I’m going to do this, it should at least be someone I know or someone I can get to know, not some random guy I’ve never met who might already be dead.
Just then, I remember a conversation from work – some- thing about a co-worker getting married to someone she met through a dating site.
A dating site. Maybe I can try that.
I sit up, pulling my chair closer to my desk.
Now, what was that site again? Something Cupid?
I type ‘Cupid dating site’ in the search bar and press Enter, looking at the results.
RealCupid.com. That’s it.
I pull up the home page, smiling at the cute message from the creators about giving everyone a real and fair chance at love, which everyone deserves; hence, no pictures. It’s almost like The Voice but for those looking for dates.
Frankly, I don’t like the thought of meeting someone through a machine, but at least I’ll be meeting someone. There will be a someone involved, not just some scientific tool.
True, my mother specifically told me not to go get myself knocked up by some random guy, but I’m not meeting some random guy. I’m choosing. At least, I’m trying to as I start going through the hundreds of ads at RealCupid.com.
Seriously, are all these men looking for a date? Why don’t they go to a coffee shop and try sharing a table with a lonely woman?
For the same reason you’re looking for a man to get you pregnant. They’re scared and they don’t have the luxury of time.
I roll my eyes. Right. I can’t criticize these men when I’m looking for a date and a potential turkey baster alternative. Enough with my opinions. I need solutions.
I filter the ads, putting in preferences for age – 25 to 35, build – fit to buff, and location – East Coast.
I hit ‘Go’.
The page refreshes, different names and descriptions appearing on the list. Finally, one of them catches my eye.
Soldier Looking For A Wife And Child.
My eyebrows crease. A soldier? And he’s looking for a partner and a child? At the same time?
That’s weird. But I’m doing the same thing.
I click on the ad, keenly reading the details with eyes narrowed in interest and my hands tucked under my chin.
Female. 25 to 30. Long red hair.
I touch my hair.
Single. Straight. Physically fit.
Yup, that’s me.
I’m looking for someone with a heart of gold…
I look at this line skeptically as I wrap my hand around my gold heart-shaped pendant.
Someone who doesn’t like breaking the rules but does it anyway for a bit of good fun, someone who isn’t afraid to scrape her knees or break up a fight or laugh out loud…
Scrape my knees? I do remember doing that once. Just once back when I was in college and I was climbing a tree.
…With Dash Siegel.
I still remember him, his hair like the sunlight drifting through the trees on a summer day, his eyes like night clouds drifting over the moon. I wonder if he’s still with the Marines.
Wait. Isn’t this ad from a soldier?
No. It can’t be him. He doesn’t need to post an ad. Soldiers don’t. The uniform – and the promise of pension – attracts more than enough women.
I read on.
Someone who doesn’t mind being alone but can give anyone a good time. Can handle her alcohol but doesn’t mind getting drunk every once in a while. Whoa. This is creepy. Whoever wrote this almost seems like he is describing me. Ready to get married and have a child ASAP.
Yup. He is describing me. Maybe he’s psychic or something?
At any rate, I definitely meet his requirements. The question is: Does he meet mine?
I go to the section where the Hopeful – apparently, that’s what people who put ads on RealCupid.com are called – describes himself.
A charming rebel with a lot of talents and tricks up his sleeve.
Hmm. Sounds interesting.
Prefers to be alone but can work with the right team. Hah. Sounds just like me.
Hates being surrounded by stupid people and following stupid orders.
Who doesn’t?
Loves an unexpected adventure. Tired of petty fights, sense- less deaths, and wasted opportunities.
I reread that last line as I play with the pendant of my necklace. Is that why he called himself a broken soldier? Because he’s tired of war? But what about the wasted opportunities part? Opportunities for what?
At any rate, it seems like Soldier34 is a man of depth. So far, so good.
I move on to the last line.
Good in bed.
Whoa. The man’s either cocky or skilled. Either way, it seems as if he’s experienced. I want to get pregnant. Maybe experience is a good thing.
I pause, biting my pendant as something sinks in for the first time.
Am I really going to have sex with a stranger?
I shake my head. No, I’ll think about that later. First, I have to meet him. Then we’ll take things from there.
I read what’s left of the ad:
Monthly compensation and full child support awaits the right candidate.
My eyes grow wide, the pendant falling from my lips. Well, that’s not the tender note I expected. Still, I have to say it’s practical. And ideal. If I’m going to have a child, financial support from the father would be nice and the monthly compensation, though surprising, is more than welcome, especially since I quit my job to take care of my Mom and I’m spending quite a bit for her medical expenses.
I sit back, reading the whole ad again from top to bottom.
Well, it certainly sounds good. In fact, it sounds too good to be true, almost as if it was written just for me.
But what if it’s a hoax? What if this man isn’t real?
Well, there’s only one way for me to find out. I click on Apply and start filling in the details.