From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 2, Spring Season (CHAPTER 11: TALLER, PRETTIER, BUSTIER, CURVIER)
I walk through two large glass doors wearing a feathery brown tube top stuffed with the latest in gel push-up technology, matching hot pants, and tall grey suede boots. The party is in full swing because Lola knows how to throw a party: light appetizers, strong cocktails, and beautiful people as far as the eye can see.
“Darling!” Lola calls out, motioning me over to her. “You’re the spitting image of Keira Knightley—you could be her stand-in. And let me tell you, stand-ins make good money.” Lola starts squeezing two lemon slices into her drinking glass. “Say the word and I’ll call my agent.”
Lola is always trying to convince me to be an actress. If I ever start looking good in front of a camera, I’ll consider taking her up on the offer. Unfortunately, I always appear uncomfortable in photos and I stammer in front of a video camera—drunk or sober. To me that says it all.
I grab a Mai Tai off the tray of a waiter walking by. “And your guy looks like a god. Where did you find him?”
Lola puts her arm around my shoulders. “You wanna know the truth?” she asks under her breath.
I’m not sure if anyone is every ready for the truth—especially from Lola—but I nod.
“I hired him.”
“He’s a prostitute?” I don’t do as good a job of saying this under my breath.
“No!” Lola reels back. “If he were a prostitute he wouldn’t have cost nearly so much.” She continues under her breath: “It’s this agency, Peterson & Associates. They’re like a match-making service, but for woman who want to get pregnant. Well, women who want to get pregnant but are tired of waiting for men to step up to responsibility.” She whispers the amount she paid for Tomi in my ear.
I reel back. I don’t make that much, working nine to five, in a year. I am so in the wrong business.
I notice Tomi across the pool from us. He’s draped in a loose white linen shirt and matching pants, striking as ever, looking like he came with the furniture. I wonder if there’s a buy-out price on him—and how he really feels about having a bunch of little Tomis running around and not being a part of their lives. Is that how men really wanted it? Would Tomi never want a kid on his own accord? The Ex had wanted kids; of course, he’d also wanted to wait until we could afford a nanny.
I ask Lola how long she’s planning on keeping her sperm donor.
“When I get pregnant, he leaves,” she says, sipping her lemon water, unconcerned. “That’s how most men prefer it: spread their seed and bolt.”
Apparently, that’s how Lola felt men really wanted it.
“Do you like him?” I ask her, taking a bite out of a spicy tuna roll.
“Of course I like him. I wouldn’t have picked him if I didn’t think he was an absolute doll! But seriously, long-term relationships are passé.” Lola follows my lead and grabs a few spicy tuna rolls for herself. “They never last past five years.” She dabs her napkin around her large lips. “After the first year, the infatuation goes away; after the second year, the sex starts to dwindle; after the third year, you’re fantasizing about other men to get yourself off; and after four years, you’re looking for the next best thing. It’s happened in every relationship I’ve been in.”
“Maybe you haven’t found The One,” I offer—although my own foundation on the topic has been rocked.
Lola stops chewing. “Darling, there is no One; there are Many. That’s survival. You’ll understand when you’re in your thirties.”
To Be Continued…
Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 2, Spring Season by Dorota Skrzypek.
Copyright 2009 by Dorota Skrzypek.
All Rights Reserved.
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