The Outrageous Stunt My Rich Older Man Tried to Pull So I Wouldn’t Ask Him For Kids

I decided to put aside—at least temporarily—the issue of kids with my older man, Patrick. I was too busy with my job and liked it too much to pur­sue moth­er­hood imme­di­ately, any­ways. It was still in the back of my mind, though. Oddly, the sub­ject was in the fore­front of Patrick’s mind. I think he feared he would lose me.

He started to do some pretty crazy things. One day when I returned from a busi­ness trip, he picked me up at the air­port. When I got in the car, he handed me a lit­tle gray suede box with a rib­bon. I rec­og­nized that the box was from Bai­ley Banks & Bid­dle, my favorite jew­elry store. The box was small and it looked like the kind that would hold a ring. I was slightly pan­icked, but I opened it while we were dri­ving into the city on the highway.

It was indeed a ring, but not an engage­ment ring; it wasn’t even a pre­cious gem ring. It was a plain gold band. It was unmis­tak­ably a wed­ding ring. I didn’t put it on, but looked ques­tion­ingly at Patrick, who said, “Hun, I thought it might be a good idea for you to wear this when you travel, so that other men think you’re mar­ried. It’s for your own safety. I know you get hit on when you travel and this might help.”

Once again, Patrick had taken me by sur­prise. It both­ered me that he wanted me to appear mar­ried, but not actu­ally be mar­ried. I couldn’t decide if it was an insult or a sweet ges­ture, but at that moment I decided his inten­tions were good, so I thanked him and slipped it into my purse. I did wear that ring on occa­sion, but cer­tainly not every day, and only when I traveled.

A cou­ple of weeks later, we met his son, Michael, for drinks after work at our favorite seafood restau­rant. Michael was dis­tant, but care­ful. It was only the three of us and we sat at the oys­ter bar, order­ing fresh oys­ters and appetizers.

Patrick and Michael were talk­ing about busi­ness and I was lis­ten­ing with only occa­sional atten­tion. Then the con­ver­sa­tion took an abrupt turn. Patrick asked his son how he would feel about being a sperm donor for me!

I’m not sure who was more surprised—his son, or me. I firmly told Patrick that was a ridicu­lous idea and apol­o­gized to Michael, say­ing this was some­thing I had no inter­est in, nor had his father and I even dis­cussed it.

Patrick, always the eager one, started explain­ing how this would be per­fect. I could have a child and it would be as close as pos­si­ble to being his child if his son was the bio­log­i­cal father—Patrick had a vasec­tomy done over 20 years ago, which means it could never be reversed.

Michael didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either. I think he knew I was being hon­est in refus­ing to even dis­cuss the subject.

Once again, I was stunned at the lengths Patrick would go to for me. But this time he was so clearly out of con­trol that I ques­tioned his men­tal state. Was he so afraid of los­ing me that he would want to become a father again at his age? Was he so des­per­ate that he would ask his son to help?