As much as I could make fun of it by myself and with my other single coworkers, part of me couldn’t help but long for that type of fulfillment too. To be the one to make my son or daughter light up with joy on December twenty-fifth when they came crashing down the stairs in candy-cane print pajamas. The excitement on their faces to find a brand-new bike or a Barbie Dreamhouse. But for that I would need to have a kid, which means I would need to be pregnant, which means I would need to have sex, and to have sex there would need to be a man in my life. One that was not only willing to have sex
...more
