Around two weeks ago, I was at the peak of my maternal desires. I had this intense, compelling need to have someone that came from me, not just a work of art or craft, but someone alive and capable of affection. I wanted to have a child! This was most likely triggered by that disgusting news about a neonate found in an airplane's trash bin. But then again, perhaps it was only just about time. At 30 years old, my aging ovaries are probably desperate for a chance to procreate, a chance for them to transmit their mitochondrial DNA to someone I could love and who, in all likelihood, will actually love me back.
With these maternal instincts so strong and troublesome, I decided to do something about it. Desperate as I was, Fate played a helping hand by allowing me to stumble upon this hilarious ad. Simply because the ad was strange and ridiculous, I emailed the guy. Nope, the man behind it was not even half as psychotic as I expected him to be. He seemed like your everyday kind of guy with a not-so-ordinary way of looking at the world - traits that made the idea more appealing. I happen to believe that peculiarity and eccentricity are an asset - they are the vital ingredients for an adventure.
To make a long story short, I was actually crazy enough to meet with the guy. He didn't seem to sound like a hoax. Seem - being the operative word. It would have been exciting if I took this deal hook, line, and sinker. But I didn't. I begged for one more year. One more year to find someone. One more year to do things the normal way. One more year to be hit by that proverbial stray bullet. One more year to be struck by lightning on a clear day. Sorry, my dear eggs, but I was not brave enough to indulge you yet. Let's give it one more year to wait and see. But if nobody comes along, then we will cross the Rubicon and cast the die.
My huge baby project would have to wait. But I'm sure glad there are still crazy people in this planet bizaare enough to give me my Plan B.