I’m headed to New York to confront the man I met on New Years Eve eight months ago.
I had to bring my goat.
AndI’m eight months pregnant.
The man I’m meeting in his fancy New York office is the saltiest hunk of male beauty you never want to cross. He wouldn’t know a smile if you drew one on his face.
I slept with him on a dare. Yes, we used protection.
Faulty protection, apparently.
I was going to raise the baby in my Colorado yurt with my pet goat Matilda. My two best girlfriends were going to be the other moms, but their lives moved on.
I’m a yoga teacher with forty dollars to my name. I had to hitchhike to get here.
I didnt have a goat-sitter, so I’m loading Matilda onto the subway and headed to Wall Street.
It’s time to confront a salty baby daddy in a place called Pickle Media.
