There is nothing inherently wrong with late 30s ladies looking to sperm banks. If you’re determined to have a baby, the unsentimental route seems preferable to a desperation marriage.
Yet, this Times story about three women who all met Mr. Right just as they were about to inseminate themselves with the same mystery donor’s seed—and got a chick lit book deal out of the situation, naturally—makes me want to beat someone with a turkey baster.
I couldn’t make up a more buy-film-rights scenario if I tried.
“As for Ms. Greenberg, she had always thought she’d be married with a child by the time she was 35. Instead, her first husband had left her for his 20-something personal trainer that year, then dragged her through a nasty divorce (though she emerged with a $10 million settlement). Suddenly single, Ms. Greenberg traveled, meditated, became a journalist — and then, somewhere between getting her navel pierced and having a fling with a sexy parking valet, she started thinking that if she didn’t meet someone soon she might have a baby on her own.”
Traveling and meditating clearly being the key to female happiness…oh, and a wad of cash doesn’t hurt. Eat, Pray Love with more jizz.
This is just as disturbing as the over 50 dad club.
Yeah, some guy who was also at the store thought he would be some sort of hero by shooting the robbers. He was arrested and charged with firing a firearm with in city limits and disorderly conduct. He was quoted
in an article saying “They got new iPhones and mine still doesn’t work.”