The Predictable Ending
Lying on the surgical table, I told myself this time would be different. And it needed to be. I wasn’t sure
how much more poking and prodding I could take. As the staff pr epped me for what I hoped would be my
last embryo transfer, my mind drifted to the photos Kent had recently emailed of Rita with his kids. He’d
introduced them all recently, and it seemed the meeting couldn’t have gone any better. He’d been dating
her for three months, and already he told me he was “in love.” The pace felt quick, but not as quick as his
misst ep with Natasha. And in my experience, men move faster at his age—for better or worse. Perhaps it’s
the “what do I have to lose?” attitude that comes with getting older. That’s not to say that’s an indicator of
possible relationship success. A couple I’d introduced in their sixties and seventies had gotten engaged in
this same time frame. “Every day it gets better,” the bachelor emailed me about his match shortly before
proposing to her—only for the engagement to dissolve within the year. Nicholas Wolfinger, a sociologist
at the University of Utah, studied data from the National Survey of Family Growth, and found that the best
age to get married with the least likelihood of divorce is between twenty-eight and thirty-
two. The idea is that people in this demographic are “not too old and not too young,” something those in
his field refer to as the “Goldilocks theory.” Below twenty-eight, people might not be old enough to
distinguish between true love and puppy love, nor have they had as much time to get their careers and
finances in order before focusing on family. Their ability to make long-term decisions might also be
compromised given that the frontal lobe is the last part of the brain to mature—something that can happen
as late as thirty. Yet, as people grow older, they become more firmly set in their ways, and are less likely to
adjust to life with another person, which is problematic for marriage. Still, I’ve known and introduced
many exc eptions, and was optimistic about Kent and Rita’s chances. I’d carefully vetted any potential
deal-breaking obstacles for them ahead of time, and his continued interest in her demonstrated his
emotional growth. The former Kent, more nitpicky, had been chasing the idea of someone else—someone
whom he’d lost decades ago. But with Rita, he was wanting to get to know the real her, imperfections and
all, without comparing her to an idealized version of a ghost. He was even spending time in her stomping
grounds in Calabasas! Meera had also begun seeing someone promising: a Midwestern professor with a
receding hairline, who was consistently displaying encouraging behavior. They’d met at the movies,
waiting in line at the concession stand before a showing of The Forever Purge. After Meera struck up a
conversation with him by commenting on the colorful pattern on his shorts, he made the bold move of
suggesting they sit together in the theater. What started off as a horror film quickly turned into a romantic
one. I was elated for Kent and Meera, but like a mother who can only ever be as happy as her least happy
child, I was feeling some misplaced guilt about Callie’s unchanged relationship status. “Do you think,” she
asked me minutes into our last scheduled Zoom together, “it’s impossible to have it all?” We had reached
the end of her membership, and I wasn’t surprised by the question. I hesitated to answer, despite knowing
exactly what she meant. I thought about my marriage, my dating business, and my writing career—and
wondered whether I was greedy for wanting to have a kid too.
“Is that what you think?” I asked her in an attempt to stall. She thought about it. She was thriving
professionally and owned a “really sweet condo”—but declared that neither would’ve been likely if she
had gotten married and had a kid years ago. “Yup. It’s impossible to have it all,” she declared, “unless
you’re Gwyneth Paltrow or something.” “Well, Gwyneth Paltrow got divorced once,” I pointed out. “Or
rather, consciously uncoupled. Take it from someone who’s worked with plenty of Alist celebrities: most
people feel they’re missing something, at some point.” Callie was echoing sentiments I’ve heard expressed
by countless other colleagues and clients, from surgeons to public figures, who’ve each experienced their
fair share of broken marriages and hearts—including those who appear happiest in the media. The
presumption they should “have it all” is omnipresent during our conversations, and every day they haven’t
achieved that, they feel like a failure. I considered pushing back on Callie’s premise, insisting that it is
possible for a person to “have it all,” but was that what I really believed? To excel professionally requires
intense dedication, focus, and time—the same traits needed to sustain a happy marriage and family. Both
require 100 percent effort, and the moment your attention is divided, something gets compromised.
Perhaps Rihanna said it best when she revealed, “You almost feel like something is always suffering for
you to show up somewhere.” But maybe that was okay. After all, we can’t all be Michelle Yeoh and be
everything, everywhere, all at once. Perhaps the key was to have it all... a little bit at a time. I thought
about a friend of mine who went to clown school. I’d seen him juggle, and had been mesmerized as he
maintained five balls in the air at once. But I also knew he hadn’t thrown up all five simultaneously to start
(if he had, the act wouldn’t have lasted very long). Instead, he’d waited until he could successfully juggle
three—then four, and eventually five. Even after knowing he could maintain all five in the air, he’d always
start his act slow, with that same build. Similarly, shortly after meeting Dave, my writing career seemed to
slacken. Looking back, I don’t think the timing was a coincidence. Dating Dave, my eventual life partner,
was time-consuming. Windows of time I used to devote to work were instead spent primping for dates, and
eventually mailing our save-the-
dates. That’s not to say I didn’t have a healthy work-life balance, but I admit I pursued our love story more
aggressively than the one I was pitching to networks at the time. But after our relationship had a secure
enough foundation, I was able to focus more on work again. I challenged Callie to recall when she was first
starting her career—when she was writing coverage on scripts, making coffee, hustling, and working late,
even after less qualified people were getting promoted before her. She worked her butt off, at the
expense—she might argue—of having a personal life. I paused for dramatic effect, and asked whether
she’d put nearly the same time into finding her partner. She admitted she hadn’t. “Like you said, how
could I?” I encouraged Callie to think of her life in three categories: work, self-care, and family. “You can
eventually have it all,” I suggested to her. “But first, you have to lay the proper foundation in one area
before you can turn your attention to another. You’ve done that now with work. It’s time to put a little
more focus on yourself, and finding your partner.” I wasn’t suggesting Callie neglect work entirely. But
like my friend in clown school, she needed to throw the work ball in the air and tend to the other categories
before that ball hit the floor. “I guess my mom never threw that ball up in the first place,” she said. I was
shocked at the extemporary accusation, and somewhat hopeful. For a while, I’d been wanting to hear more
about Callie’s childhood, but I knew it needed to come up organically. Still, I didn’t think it would happen
during our final session together. “She was in med school,” Callie continued, “and basically gave up her
dream of becoming a doctor when she got pregnant with me. She dropped out and never went back.”
“Well, maybe that’s because her dream was to have you.” Even as I said it, I felt the inadequacy of the
cliché. I reminded her that some women return to school even after having a kid. “It’s really hard, but
people do it, if that’s what they really want. I don’t know your mom, though, and maybe she was happy
focusing all her time on family.” “She wasn’t,” Callie responded brusquely. “She gave everything to her
marriage, and to her kids. And after she caught my dad cheating, she could
barely figure out how to support herself. She could have been a doctor, if she took a different route.
Instead, she wound up working in his office just to pay the bills. It was humiliating, but she wasn’t
qualified for anything else.” I sympathized with her, and better understood her decision to focus so much
on her career—a valid decision even without her family history. Knowing why Callie pursued the path she
took, and perhaps why she was so critical of people when she first met them, was instrumental in helping
her on her journey. By trying to identify what was “wrong” with someone before diving into a relationship
with them, or even a friendship, Callie had subconsciously been trying to avoid feeling trapped in the
wrong dynamic, the way she perceived her mother was. But certain red flags can’t be detected ahead of
time. And sometimes, what is “wrong” with a person is actually what helps make them uniquely suited to
another. “You’ve been trying to avoid feeling hurt for so long that you’ve also been inadvertently avoiding
feeling love. You deserve to feel love, Callie.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. By the time she
realized it was there and wiped it away, only a few seconds had gone by—but to her, that demonstration of
vulnerability was longer than she was comfortable with. “I know that,” she sputtered. “I mean, duh. I’m
awesome, right?” I wanted to reach through the screen and hug her. She really was. I wondered whether I
would ever see her again, or whether—because I’d failed to meet her arbitrary timeline—I’d have to acc ept
that my role in her journey to find love was over. She wasn’t the type not to “make good” on her
ultimatum. Still, I couldn’t bear the thought of us parting ways after this breakthrough conversation, and
asked if she’d be open to one more session with me, on the house, to at least talk through the next st eps
she’d be taking on her own. “Really?” She seemed touched. “Really.” I saw a change in Callie that day. I
had no way of knowing for sure, but something in me felt certain that the match she’d been waiting for was
just around the corner—and I really wanted to be there when it happened.