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This story appeared in toronto life

There was no internal examination and he is no longer my doctor.

So I go to this naturopathic gynecologist last february who looks at my chart and says: 'You were born on the exact same day as my son. Same year and everything. And it says here that you are a writer. My son is a playwright. Maybe you know him?'

Nope.

Looking at me closely he says, "You know, I have this feeling about you and my son. I think you would make a good match. Do you mind if I give him your number?"

Yes. please don't


"Well, take his, at least." He passes me a perscription sheet with his son's number on it.

Um, I think your son would be mortified if he knew you were trying to set him up with a patient. And besides, we should be talking about my ovaries, not your son! (in spite of myself, I start laughing.)


"But your ovaries could be part of my son's future!"

This was weird, but so incredible and funny that I told all my friends. That summer I met the son in question. And told him the story. And he asked me to see a play in the park. So I did. And he was unspeakably lovely.

This is the official story.

Everytime I see his dad, I wonder about the other stuff I put on my chart. Phrases like "single and sexually active."

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5.1.2001
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Previously on Pony
The Dots Were There All Along
The Holy Grail of Value Village Finds
How I spent the first day of the G20 summit
All the bits of paper
the little person
The Bob

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bio: adina
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5/1/2001
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