When I was 29, I was in a relationship. I enjoyed the man’s company, and he enjoyed mine. Even though I had a diaphragm, I didn’t put it in this one time. I ended up pregnant. As soon as I found out, I decided, as a single woman, I would have an abortion. The man I was dating reluctantly agreed to that. He accompanied me to the hospital. Then he went and evidently got drunk at a nearby establishment. When I joined him later at a restaurant, he reached across the table and stuff money down my bra. I never felt so humiliated. I kept dating him for a while longer. When I brought up marriage, he told me that he would need to have his kids know Jesus. He knew I was Jewish, and he never made it sound as if his Christianity meant that much to him. We decided to break up. I never looked back on that decision. And then when things started heating up in DC, my BFF and I went on one the buses headed to DC to protest the Bush, Reagan, Roberts Court. We went three times in the late ’80s. I will never, ever be a hypocrite when it comes to a woman’s choice.