Dottie was the first woman I dated who was taller than me, though just by an inch or two. Her bed was high off the ground and required a jump to get up on and if I sat on the side, my feet dangled a good six inches off the floor. She was from New Hampshire and played bass in a band and had dated, up until me, only women. Five years have passed since I last saw Dottie. Considering it’s an ad for a nanny-for-hire and she was not a mother five years ago, I’m forced to a very hasty and panicked arithmetic: five years minus nine months divided by ovulating lesbian plus naïve boy who thought he alone could transcend sexual binaries equals: panic. I scour the email for clues. She has two children, boys, ages four years and six months, and only needs childcare a couple days a week.

Originally published August 18, 2016 in Big Lucks, Number 12.

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