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Finally, I did what every single, twenty-something, heterosexual, agnostic Jewess would do. I panicked. I freaked out, feared the worst and decided that I must be pregnant. My boyfriend at the time was chronically calm and unruffled, but I feared the whole pregnancy scare might be more than even he could handle so, I, uncharacteristically, kept it to myself.
Almost. My best friend “G” chatted supportively from her office at a major women’s rights organization. “No babies,” she typed firmly. “Big money,” I replied, “big money, no babies, no babies,” invoking that shining beacon in hard times, Game Show Network reruns of “Press Your Luck.”