On the plane, I heard a child crying from a sealed overhead compartment — I was shocked when I opened it.

“It’s a training doll. I bought it because”—he lowered his voice—”she’s been talking about wanting a baby, and, well…” He trailed off, irritated and gesturing toward his girlfriend, who looked both sheepish and annoyed. She crossed her arms defensively.

“I told you, I’m ready for a baby!” she snapped. “Ready? You left it at the airport after that ‘just one drink’ party last night!” he hissed back.

“I had to go find it myself while you were passed out in the waiting area! You can’t even keep track of a doll, let alone a real baby.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, turning away from him. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have left it if you weren’t constantly criticizing me!”

“Criticizing you?” he shot back, his frustration finally boiling over.

“I bought this doll because I needed proof you could handle responsibility for more than a few hours. And, clearly, I was right. You can’t!”

The realization hit me all at once.

He wasn’t angry because of her hangover—he was angry because he’d been testing her, and she’d failed spectacularly. He ran a hand through his hair, looking exhausted, then turned to her with a sigh. “This just isn’t going to work,” he said flatly.

“You’re not ready for a baby. And I don’t think we’re ready for… well, anything.”Continue reading…