Point, Click, Love

by Molly Shapiro

  “Like drunk?” asked Claudia.

  “Like off,” said Katie. “Pissed off.”

  “Oh,” said Claudia. “That’s usually me.”

  “Are you still upset about that guy?” asked Annie.

  “Oh, no,” said Katie. “I’m not upset. More like embittered.”

  “What a jerk,” said Maxine.

  “But it’s not even about him,” said Katie. “It’s more like … like, what’s the point? What’s the point of dating and love and relationships and all that crap? It’s such a bunch of bullshit. There’s no such thing as love. It’s just lust. I knew that before, but I let myself forget.”

  “Come on, Katie,” said Claudia with uncharacteristic sincerity. “You don’t really believe that.”

  “What do you mean?” Katie said to Claudia. “You don’t have love or lust!”

  Claudia stifled a smile, remaining silent. She knew that if she opened her mouth she’d likely say something that would give herself away.

  “I don’t have love or lust!” said Annie excitedly.

  “The only one who has any love around here is Maxine,” said Katie. “And lust too. She’s an aberration.”

  “Oh, cut it out!” said Maxine, as she reached for another bottle of wine and filled everyone’s glass, not even bothering to wait for the shop owner to leave the room. “I’m so sick of hearing about how in love I am. How do you know?”

  Annie, Katie, and Claudia looked at one another in disbelief, then took a big gulp of wine.

  “What’s going on, Maxine?” asked Katie.

  “Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry, everything’s fine.” The last thing Maxine wanted to do was get into the whole Jake thing. No, she didn’t want to hear about how great her marriage was, but she didn’t want everyone to know how bad it was either.

  “You sure about that?” said Annie.

  “I’m sure,” said Maxine. “In fact, I’ve got great news. I’m going to L.A. for a gallery opening. A whole week. All expenses paid.”

  “That’s amazing!” said Claudia.

  “What are you going to do with the kids?” asked Annie.

  “I don’t know. Jake’ll deal with it.”

  “I’m impressed!” said Katie.

  “I’ve had the chance to do stuff like this before, but I always said no because of the kids and Jake and everything else I have to do. But enough. I’m going. And they can all fend for themselves.”

  “They’ll be absolutely fine,” said Claudia.

  “I just want to get away!” said Maxine.

  “Don’t we all,” said Katie.

  “Not me,” said Claudia.

  Katie, Annie, and Maxine all turned and looked at Claudia.

  “What?” said Claudia. “I’m happy, remember? And Zen!”

  “What is ‘happy’ anyway?” asked Annie.

  “Happiness is getting laid—consistently and well,” said Katie.

  “Then I guess I’m not happy,” said Annie.

  “Me neither,” said Maxine. She couldn’t help herself. And then, of course, came those looks of concern from her friends. “Oh, come on. Do you really think it’s all a bed of roses for me?”

  “Kind of,” said Claudia.

  “Well, it’s not,” said Maxine. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”

  “I was happy for a couple months with Ed, but then the asshole started screwing his old girlfriend,” said Katie, trying to get Maxine off the hook by changing the subject.

  “So why are you so happy, Claudia?” asked Annie. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

  “In that department, Steve’s always been pretty consistent, if not earth-shattering.”

  “You know what, Katie?” said Maxine. “I’m starting to think you might be right about this. Maybe that is what happiness is all about—a good, consistent fuck.”

  “Maxine!” said Claudia. “Keep it down! I think the whole table heard that.”

  “Whatever,” said Maxine. “Like they’ve never heard that word before?”

  “Not from such a classy, sophisticated lady,” said Katie.

  “So this concept poses somewhat of a dilemma for me,” said Annie.

  “How’s that?” asked Katie.

  “Well, I’m sort of banking on the idea that happiness comes from the result of sex, not the sex itself.”

  “Happiness is babies?” asked Claudia.

  Annie shrugged.

  Claudia, Katie, and Maxine burst into laughter.

  “What?” asked Annie, a little shocked. “Your kids don’t bring you joy?”

  “Of course they do, Annie,” said Claudia. “And, you know, you could very well be right about this. It’s just, well, kids are hard. It’s not unadulterated joy.”

  “I know that,” said Annie. “But neither is good sex.”

  “If it’s really good it is,” said Katie.

  “All right, well, I’m going with the baby.”

  “What are you talking about, Annie?” asked Maxine.

  “I’ve decided to have a baby.” Annie was enjoying telling people about her plan—first her mother and now her friends. Contemplating it and researching it all alone on her computer in the dark of her home office made the whole thing feel secretive and sinister. Saying it out loud made Annie realize that, while it was an unusual choice to make, it was something to be joyful about.

  “Wow, that’s … great!” said Claudia.

  “Are you going to get inseminated?” asked Katie.

  “That’s the idea,” said Annie. “My doctor thinks it should work fine. There’s only one problem.”

  “What’s that?” asked Claudia.

  “Well, I’ve been scouring this online sperm bank for months, scoping out the perfect donor, and finally I settle on one. Really, he’s perfect. Everything about him. It’s hard to say, I just feel right about this guy. So I’m all set to make my purchase—”

  “Visa, MasterCard, or PayPal,” said Claudia.

  “Be quiet, Claudia!” said Maxine.

  “And I click on the ‘Buy’ button and this window pops up. They ran out of the guy’s sperm.”

  “No way!” said Katie.

  “I guess a lot of other women thought he was perfect too,” said Claudia.

  “Now I feel like I can’t move forward with this,” said Annie. “It’s like I found the father of my child and I can’t bring myself to consider anyone else.”

  “I don’t blame you,” said Katie. “Why should you?”

  “I mean, the guy presumably still has plenty of sperm, unless he’s dead or someone chopped off his penis,” said Annie.

  “And why shouldn’t you be able to get some of it?” said Katie.

  “Well, it’s not as if his sperm is public property,” said Maxine.

  “I know,” said Annie. “But it was on the market before, and it seems like what’s another vial or two.”

  “I’m sure the guy just stopped contributing because he got too busy or something,” said Claudia. “I bet if he knew about you, he’d be happy to give you a bucket of his sperm.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking!” said Annie excitedly.

  “So, what? You’re going to track him down?” asked Maxine.

  “Maybe,” said Annie. “But how? It’s all confidential.”

  The four women sat in silence, thinking.

  “You need access to the sperm bank’s files,” said Claudia.

  “How do I get that?” asked Annie.

  “You need a spy,” said Katie.

  “Like bribe someone who works there?” asked Annie.

  “That’s an idea,” said Katie.

  “But then what happens if you bribe the wrong person and they report you to the authorities?” Maxine pointed out.

  “I don’t know,” said Claudia. “Bribing someone to get the name of a sperm donor might not be a prosecutable offense.”

  “Okay, so let’s say through some incredible stroke of luck she manages
to get the name of the guy. Then what? How does she get his sperm?” asked Maxine.

  “I ask him for some?” suggested Annie.

  “Maxine, you’re being kind of negative about this,” said Katie.

  “I’m sorry, but I have my doubts,” said Maxine. “And maybe I’m a little wary about the idea that this guy is the only possible sperm donor. I just don’t believe in that anymore. I don’t believe there’s one person out there, whether to marry or to be the father of your children.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, Maxine,” said Annie. “I don’t really believe that either. In this case, though, I don’t feel so much like I’m seeking out the father of my child but that I’m seeking out my child. Like, my egg plus this guy’s sperm, whoever he is, is what will make my baby, and if I go with some other guy, I won’t have the baby I’m meant to have, I’ll have some other baby. You know what I mean?”

  “Sort of,” said Maxine.

  “I know it sounds crazy and doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. But I have this feeling that all this is happening because of some stupid fluke of timing, like if I had only made a decision and ordered his sperm a week or two earlier, it would all be different.”

  “I understand what you mean, Annie,” said Katie.

  “Don’t worry,” said Claudia. “We’ll help you however we can.”

  “Thanks, guys,” said Annie.

  “And if the plan to find him doesn’t work, I can always get you some sperm while I’m in L.A.,” said Maxine. “Brad Pitt, maybe?”

  “No, he’s a cheater,” said Annie.

  “It’ll be tough to find someone faithful in L.A.,” said Maxine. “Particularly someone who’s also willing to give a strange woman a jar of his sperm.”

  “It’s okay, we’ll find this guy,” said Claudia.

  “Rick,” said Annie. “I call him Rick.”

  “We’ll find Rick and we’ll get his sperm and we’ll make a beautiful little baby for Annie,” said Claudia.

  “And then,” said Maxine, “we’ll find her a good, consistent—”

  “Shhhh!”

  Chapter Eleven

  After the Ed debacle, Katie was mad at herself more than anything. She had gone into the whole online-dating thing just for fun, never wanting anything serious. But then she got swept up in all Ed’s talk of love and spending their lives together. He set her up, then promptly knocked her down.

  Katie never could figure out what Ed’s motivation was. He didn’t have to pronounce his love for her in order to get her into the sack—she was ready and willing. She wouldn’t have even minded if he had wanted to see other people—all he had to do was say so. Then why did he do it? Was it a sadistic game for Ed? Did he get a perverse thrill from making women think he couldn’t live without them and then suddenly deciding he never wanted to see them again?

  While the whole nasty experience was disconcerting, as a true member of the Oprah generation Katie was determined to learn something from it. The lesson was simple: She would never let herself get in that situation again. Katie didn’t feel like she had to once again give up on men. What she had to do was keep them at a distance while getting what she wanted from them. The moment they started talking about love and commitment, that would be the end.

  Katie was ready to get back in the saddle, but she wasn’t about to go on Match.com again. The last thing she wanted was a perfect “match.” She didn’t want to find Mr. Right, she wanted to find Mr. Wrong, so that it would be easy to leave him when the time came.

  Katie loved craigslist. She’d found her job at the bank there, bought a new dining room set there, and found a guitar teacher for her son, Frank, there. She remembered seeing a “personals” listing but had never thought to check it out. So she went online and immediately found the perfect thing for her—a section called “casual encounters.”

  Casual, that’s just what I need, thought Katie, and with a few simple clicks—so much easier than Match!—she had a lengthy list of potential dates, all written in that familiar blue typeface and all posted that very same day.

  But when she started reading them, she sensed something fishy. “Want some Thursday morning fun?” read one. “Party with me tonight,” read another. Things seemed to move a lot quicker here, thought Katie, noting that the men wanted to get together at very specific times. She read on. “Young stud looking for hot MILF,” “Seeking NSA—Eager to Please!” MILF? NSA? Katie had no idea what these acronyms could mean and didn’t think she’d find them at Dictionary.com. “Lonely housewives: If you wanna get off, cum over to my house.” Finally, Katie was getting the message.

  But while she understood that this was not the place for her, she couldn’t help but click on some of the entries. First she tried the ones that had a little orange “pic” next to them. “My wife leaves the house at 7:00 for work. Want to come over at 8:00 and get nasty with me?” Underneath was a single picture. A penis. Katie quickly hit the “back” button. She tried another. Before she could even read the words, she looked down at the picture. Another penis. This one, however, was attached to a headless torso. She tried one more time. “I’m a busy lawyer who likes to cum home for lunch. Want to join me and we can eat each other?” There were three pictures: a man in a suit next to a car, a naked man lying on a couch, and a man lying on a bed holding his penis.

  For the first time in her life, Katie felt like she had stumbled into a scary online universe. How could this be? she asked herself. How could there be all these pictures of penises just a few clicks away from the armoires and apartment rentals and job postings for babysitters?

  Katie closed her browser and promptly deleted her history, hoping to erase any remnants of her excursion into “casual encounters.”

  Surely there must be something in between a soul mate and a sex toy, thought Katie. She searched and searched until she found a local site called DateKC.com. “A safe, comfortable way to meet nice people near you,” read the tagline, which seemed to be speaking directly to Katie. Safe, comfortable, nice—exactly what I’m looking for, she thought. She started to randomly click on profiles and immediately liked what she saw. The pictures were more spontaneous than they were on Match—less posed. And there wasn’t a naked body part in sight. As she read on, she noticed no references to finding “The One” or “Ms. Right” or even “Somebody Special.” Everyone seemed to be in it for a good time—but not too good.

  The profiles on DateKC.com were much sketchier than those on Match.com, with no talk about jobs or salaries, height preferences or body type, religious or political leanings. There was an understanding that such things didn’t matter much if you weren’t looking for a long-term relationship. Instead, people concentrated on their favorite hangouts and activities and whether they were University of Kansas or University of Missouri fans.

  Wanting to find someone closer to her own age this time, Katie immediately zeroed in on a cute guy of thirty-two who looked much younger. “Making the best of it in KC” was his headline. “Wishing for the mountains of Boulder, beaches of LA, bars of NY. But I’m here, so why not have fun?” Katie liked this guy’s philosophy. She liked that he wasn’t so provincial as to think that Kansas City was the center of the universe, that he was aware of what the rest of the country had to offer. But he wasn’t wasting his life away wishing for something else.

  “Ever try sledding down Suicide Hill? Lounging at the Prairie Village pool?” wrote Katie. “And Mike’s Pub isn’t bad.” She had never actually been to Mike’s Pub, which was about a half mile from her house, but she had heard it was a happening place.

  Five minutes after sending her email, Katie received a reply. “Mikes? No way … thats my home away frm home. Never cu there …”

  Uh-oh, thought Katie. How would she get out of this one? “Used to go there a lot, not much lately,” she answered.

  “Wanna meet somtime?” he wrote back two minutes later. “Nice pics … btw.”

  “OK,” agreed Katie, thinking it was a little odd that sh
e had made a date without even knowing the man’s name. “I’m Katie.”

  “O sorry … im dave,” he wrote. “How bout thurs … haphour?”

  Haphour? Katie wondered. Happy hour! she figured out after fifteen seconds, embarrassed that it took her so long. She imagined this guy was on his phone, using the texting lingo that was like a foreign language to her. Katie decided that if she was going to hang with a younger crowd, she couldn’t be afraid to look stupid. She also decided that she would never, ever type “cu” or “btw,” no matter whom she was dating.

  “Every hour is happy for me. Which are the happy ones at Mike’s?” she wrote back.

  “@6?” replied Dave.

  “At six,” Katie spelled out defiantly.

  Wow, that was fast, she thought. Then she began to worry that maybe DateKC was just a kinder, gentler version of craigslist. But, no, these were the type of people she was familiar with, the same ones she knew in high school and college, the ones she saw at the bank every day. She was pretty sure they weren’t hosting intimate sex parties at their homes during their lunch hour.

  Rob wasn’t able to babysit on Thursday night, so Katie called her backup sitter, Jenny. After getting laid off from her job as a copy editor at The Kansas City Star, Jenny decided to go to nursing school. She had heard that nursing was recession-proof.

  “Thanks for coming so early, Jenny,” said Katie as she opened the door.

  “No problem. You going on a date?” asked Jenny, looking Katie up and down.

  Katie widened her eyes and motioned to Maggie, who was watching TV in the other room.

  “Oh, sorry,” said Jenny. “Meeting your work friends, right? Where you going?”

  “Mike’s Pub,” said Katie.

  “Mike’s? Really?” said Jenny in disbelief.

  “What?” asked Katie, concerned. “What’s wrong with Mike’s?”

  “Oh, nothing. Sorry. It’s just that I hang out there. You know, it’s kind of …”

  “Young? Am I too old to go there?” Katie suddenly felt like a fool, going to the same bar where her twenty-three-year-old babysitter went.

  “No! Katie, I’m … surprised, that’s all. Come on! I see people in their thirties there all the time!”