Thou expected thy single apartment to beget men aplenty, but this did not come to pass. Nay, thou logged months without bedroom companions, and thy feet were cold, and thy hands were cold, and thy heart was cold, too.
And when it came time to meet men thou felt nervous, and that nervousness begot drinking, and the drinking begot more drinking, and drinking begot hangovers and hangovers begot regret, and thou didst not finish thy freelance work, nor didst thou respect thyself for spending $40 on taxi rides home, and thou lost thy credit card, and was afflicted by stomach ills and additional poundage, but thou didst not go home with any strangers, nay, no play was had.
And so it came to pass that thy kitchen grew mangy, thy pots unwashed, thy refrigerator bare; and thou began to take thy meals above the sink, and the stink from the drain grew strong, as thou neglected to clean the vegetable detritus, and it bothered thee, but it didst not bother thee enough.
And the economic crisis engulfing the land visited upon thy house, and thou didst not understand when thy manager spake of “overcapacity,” for thou dost not speak the language of corporate America, and only once thou hadst been locked out of thine computer did thou realize thou hadst been fired.
And the confusion and the casting about for income were so great, thou didst not know where to turn; and so thou bought an expensive purple jacket with a complicated collar and buttons that thy didst not need. Thou felt momentarily better, until thou realized thy life was beginning to resemble a Chick Flick, and that in due course thou would soon begin rationing cigarettes, although thou didst not smoke, and inventing twiggy nicknames for thy female friends, who art blessed with strong names like Caroline and Charlotte. And thy heart was hardened, and thine face fell, because thou hast long thought thyself more interesting than that.
And so thou didst something even crazier next. Thou decided to have a baby.
Rachel Somerstein (i.e., “Mom”)