SHWETA BHATT: You've graduated college.

You have a good job now.

It's time to think about the next step.

What are you looking for in a life partner?

MICHAEL HERSCHBERG: You see, I always wanted to marry Mr.

Right, buy a house, and raise kids.

But that first part, finding Mr.

Right, was not happening.

It was a few months later that by some miracle, the dog that would change my life stumbled into my life.

WES HAZARD: Tonight's theme is "The Thing About Love."

Love is rarely simple, and it almost never looks exactly like we imagine.

It can be awkward, funny, confusing, profound.

Sometimes all at once.

Tonight, our tellers are going to take a look at what love is really like and not what it's supposed to be.

And maybe, in their stories, you'll find a little piece of your own.

♪ ♪ BHATT: My name is Shweta Bhatt.

I'm from Burlington, Massachusetts, and I'm currently living in Newton.

And I'm a performer, but I'm also a storytelling and writing coach.

Wonderful.

And like what kind of stories do you find yourself really drawn to telling now?

Are you more dramatic, comedic?

What's your preference?

I always say there's magic in the mundane.

You know, those in-between moments, the ones that are not so triumphant or so traumatic that people can't really connect with them.

And so I always ask myself, what's the way I can make this the most resonant?

How can this land and take the audience somewhere they've been before?

How do you feel that your work with young people influences your own stories?

You know how they say you can't give to others what you can't give yourself?

Working with other students, talking to them, asking them questions, encouraging them, helping them stand on their feet, confident about the things they've done, about the person they've become, about the dreams they have only is more believable when I'm able to do it for myself.

"Please proofread" is the subject of an email that has just made its way into my inbox.

From my dad, who's literally sitting in the same room as me.

(audience chuckling) I open it.

There's a Word doc.

I open that, and at the top, in big, bold letters, is my name.

And then a pretty amateurly cropped photo of me in a sari.

Listed are my stats: my height, my weight, my age, where I went to school, what my occupation is, what caste I belong to, what my zodiac sign is.

There's this passage titled "My Life's Philosophy."

It's pretty poorly written.

And then another one titled "My Interests."

And at the very bottom of the page, there is a list of things I am looking for in a potential partner.

This is my marriage resume.

My parents, they want me to get married.

I was 23 years old.

I had just moved to New York City, and it was my birthday.

So my parents, they drove down to celebrate with me.

And at birthday dinner, they started the conversation.

"Look, Shweta, you've graduated college, "you have a good job now.

"It's time to think about the next step.

What are you looking for in a life partner?"

And before I can say anything, they start asking me a series of close-ended questions.

"Do you want an Indian?

A vegetarian?

"How tall?

How old?

What occupation?"

And, as a reflex, I just answer them.

I'm not so sure if they were honest or just the answers I thought would make them happy, but, before this could snowball into any further discussion or disagreement, I tell them, "Hey, look.

Mom, Dad, for the past 23 years, "I've been known as your daughter.

"And before I spend the rest of my life "being known as some guy's wife, "I want to get to know who I am.

"See, I have lived my entire life "rising to the expectations of others "that I don't know what I like.

"I don't know what feels good.

"I don't know who I am, and so, "I was hoping New York City "could be the place I could do that.

And so I'd really not like to talk about this right now."

My parents, I'm not so sure they understood exactly what I was saying, but they love me, and they agreed.

"Sure, we can talk about this later."

Well, later has come.

Six years to be exact.

I have moved back home to Burlington, Massachusetts, and I live with them now.

We watch "NCIS" every single night.

I tell them where I am going and when I am coming back.

I left my job a couple months ago.

Oh, and it's the middle of a pandemic.

This is not the life I expected to be living.

It doesn't feel good.

And my parents, they're worried, because their now 29-year-old daughter is not married, she's not engaged, she's not even dating.

And all of their friends' kids are.

And have either already bought a house or had a child.

Now, what they don't know is I've dated before.

Not a lot, but... Enough to know that there is a part of me that believes I am unlovable as I am.

And so every time I meet someone, I try to change myself into the perfect version for them.

I listen to all of their favorite podcasts, I memorize the lyrics to all of their favorite songs, I root for their favorite sports teams, and it works.

For a couple of months.

Until I stop feeling good, and I leave.

Because I recognize I'm not being myself.

And that's why getting married, it scares me.

Because what if it happens permanently?

What if I lose myself to be somebody lovable for someone else?

And so every time somebody calls my parents with a potential match for me, I say no.

Not because I don't like talking to new people or I don't think they'd be cool, but because I'm not going to break my heart like that.

And my parents, they're getting upset.

Almost as upset as I'm getting looking at this piece of paper.

I mean, it makes me look like a freaking caricature.

Where's the context?

Where's my story?

Where are my struggles or my lessons or the growth I've experienced or the healing I've done?

So I get up, and I walk over to my dad, and I tell them, "Hey, dude, I appreciate "that you don't want me to end up alone.

"I don't want to end up alone, "but this isn't the way we're going to do it.

"I need you to delete this "off of whatever website you have put it on.

"I don't want you involved.

I will take it into my own hands."

Now, I wish I could tell you I took that momentum and created this super prosperous dating life for myself.

(light laughter) But instead, I started going to open mics.

Story slams.

Getting on Instagram Live every single day and just saying whatever was on my mind.

And it started to happen.

What I wanted in New York.

I started sharing myself, seeing myself, hearing myself unapologetically in this world, and I realized, this is who I am.

This is what makes me feel alive.

And so, a couple months later, when I was scrolling on Facebook and I saw some ad for a millennial matchmaking service, I made a profile.

I mean, it was only $29.99.

(laughter) This time, I gave context, though.

My name is Shweta.

I'm a storyteller, and this is what I know to be true about myself.

And this is how I'd want to grow together.

And then I forgot about it, because literally five minutes later, I get an email from them with a disclaimer that says, "you will probably meet no one."

(laughter) Until I get a text six months later from some 20-something matchmaker in Vermont.

She tells me she has a client who could be a potential match for me.

Now, when my parents met, their families had done the complete due diligence.

I mean, astrological charts transposed, genetic lineage completely mapped out.

So it took my parents only 15 minutes to agree to marry one another.

And I mean, 40 years later, it seems to have worked out for them.

And in the 15-minute Zoom call I have had with Sarah the matchmaker, all I know about this guy is that he is from Wisconsin, he did grad school abroad, he likes Dungeons and Dragons, and makes a lot of banana bread.

(laughter) I don't know what podcasts he listens to, or sports teams he roots for, or songs he likes.

I don't know how to be the perfect version for him.

And so I'm not going to.

I get ready.

I put on some yellow dress in the back of my closet, and before I'm about to go over to my sister's room to tell her to please text me or call me in 45 minutes to make sure I'm still alive, I catch myself laughing in the mirror, recognizing I'm about to go on a blind date with a guy I know nothing about.

But the woman I see looking at me, I know her a lot better now.

And she has a lot to offer.

So for the first time, the thought crosses my mind and it doesn't scare me.

What if I marry this guy?

Thank you.

(applause) HERSCHBERG: My name is Michael Herschberg.

I was born in New York City, but I've been living here in the Boston area for about 11 years, and I currently work as a freelance sign language interpreter.

I'm really curious about the craft.

Is there something about the craft of doing ASL interpretation that people who are not involved in it might not know or think about?

Any interpreter for any language interprets concepts.

And it's not only the words, it's also intonation, body language, relationships.

All that stuff gets put into interpretations.

I know that our audience is going to love what you share with us tonight.

I'm just wondering, from your perspective, what would you most hope that they carry away after having heard your story this evening?

The LGBTQ community is... really... dealing with a lot these days, and I think a story like mine hopefully humanizes people who are part of the community, and people will leave understanding that we have the same hopes and dreams and experiences that anybody else has.

In late 2009, after getting done with yet another date that went nowhere, I officially decided to give up on love.

The thrill of dating was always squashed every time he would say something like, "I love being an uncle, but I can't imagine having kids myself."

You see, I always wanted to marry Mr.

Right, buy a house, and raise kids.

But that first part, finding Mr.

Right, was not happening.

I felt defeated that dating never led to the kind of relationship that I wanted.

So, I decided to quit looking for Mr.

Right.

I gave up on the idea of a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, and I moved straight to part three of my dream by investigating surrogacy agencies that could help me have a kid and become a single dad.

Around the same time, I got a message from this guy on a dating website that I'd been on for years.

He said he was moving to Chicago soon, and asked me about life in the city.

So I answered him, just to be nice, not really thinking much about it.

We sent a few messages back and forth, and I hoped that I had been helpful.

In February of 2010, I had my meeting with the surrogacy agency.

I signed a contract, plunked down some money, and waited to be matched with a surrogate.

In March of 2010, the guy from OkCupid sent me another message as his move approached.

I told him more about Chicago neighborhoods, said he had to try Lou Malnati's pizza, and warned him never to put ketchup on a hot dog.

It's like a cardinal sin in Chicago.

I know that moving is hard, moving to a new city can be difficult.

So why not take a few minutes out of my day to answer some questions and help someone move and talk about a city that I loved.

Later that month, the surrogacy agency contacted me to say they had a potential match.

They sent me her file.

She was younger than I had expected and she had recently had a health issue, so I, I really didn't think she was the match for me.

The agency countered by saying, "Just meet her, Michael.

A file doesn't show you who she truly is."

So I agreed to meet, thinking "This will be a practice meeting.

"A meeting like this is going to be awkward.

"So, I'll do this meeting, and then the next time, "I'll be better.

I'll feel more comfortable."

A few weeks later, we met, and the agency asked us to describe why we wanted to go on this journey.

The potential surrogate told me that when she was 11 years old, she saw a Lifetime movie about a surrogate, and that put the idea into her head.

A year later, she watched Phoebe on Friends become a surrogate for for her brother.

And recently, a family member had struggled with infertility.

She offered to be a surrogate for that family member, and when that was declined, she felt so compelled to do this that she registered with the surrogacy agency.

Hearing that she had been thinking about this for over a decade made me understand just how committed she was to this process.

Within 48 hours, we agreed to work together.

This white, gay, New York-born Jew was going to try to make a baby with a Black, Baptist, Midwestern single mom.

(laughter) That's a sentence I never thought I'd say.

(laughter) In May, the guy from OkCupid sent me another message saying he had arrived in Chicago.

"Good for you," I thought.

(laughter) He continued to ask me questions about the city and I answered them just to be nice.

And then he asked to meet.

(chuckling): Meet?

Why would I meet?

I thought, "I'm trying to have a baby here."

But he was persistent, and finally I agreed to meet him just so he would stop messaging me.

We met for four hours.

And at the end of the night, he said, "When can I see you again?"

But I was noncommittal and said I'd have to check my schedule.

A week later, we did meet.

We went to a magic show, and then we went to Dave & Buster's, and I liked him... but I wasn't dating.

I was-- I was trying to have a baby, so I was not dating.

But did he think we were dating?

I wasn't sure.

And then it was my birthday.

The morning of my birthday, I texted him to say I was going out to dinner with friends, and he could come if he wanted, and he immediately said yes.

And then I thought-- (gasps) "Surely someone at dinner is going to ask me how the surrogacy is going."

So when he arrived, I pulled him to the side and I told him exactly what I was doing with my life.

I fully expected him to freak out, but instead, he said he thought what I was doing with my life was amazing.

So we continued to see each other.

Meanwhile, the surrogate and I had been texting and getting to know each other.

She started taking her medication to prepare for the first embryo transfer in August.

But it failed.

We started trying again, she started taking the medication again, and we prepared for the second embryo transfer in November.

And a few days before the transfer, I called her up and I said, "Hey.

"You know how it's been the two of us "on this journey so far?

"Well, I met someone, "and he wants to support me in this process.

How do you feel about him coming to the transfer?"

She was fine with it, and she welcomed him on board, and now, there were three of us trying to make a baby.

The second embryo transfer failed.

A few months later, we prepared for the third embryo transfer.

And a little bit before the day of the transfer, she called me up and she said, "Hey.

"you know how it's been the two of us "on this journey so far, and then we added a third?

"Well, I met someone, "and he wants to support me in this process and come to the appointment.

How do you feel about that?"

(laughter) By this point, I had known her for over a year, and I trusted her.

So I said, "Bring him on board."

And this time, the embryo transfer worked, and she was pregnant... with twins.

(audience "aw"s) Her mother came to an appointment, and her mother was so excited, she asked the sonogram technician for pictures of the babies.

She and her sister came to the, the baby shower that my friends threw for us, and in the spring of 2012, she delivered two amazing children.

She stood by me for two years and three embryo transfers, And he has now stood by me for 16 years.

She got married in 2014 and invited us to her wedding.

I got married in 2015, and she and her sister came to my wedding.

And although we've left Chicago, we did get to visit a few years ago.

And she and her mother and her husband got to see my kids as young adults, which made me so happy.

My plan to become a single dad with a child ended with a husband, twins, and a lifelong friend.

Which just goes to prove that life does not always give you what you plan for, but it almost always gives you exactly what you need.

Thank you.

(cheers and applause) DOUCET: My name is Eliza Doucet.

I am a junior at Connecticut College, where I am majoring in theater and in biology.

But I grew up in Vermont, and I am an actor, I'm autistic, I'm a service dog handler, among many, many other things.

That's wonderful.

You know, I'm wondering, how are you feeling about sharing a story in this sort of style with us tonight?

For so many years, I felt very alone, and I felt scared to own my truth.

So I think that telling my story publicly is a way of reclaiming my existence for my younger self.

It really sounds like you have found your voice over time.

What helped you get there?

One of the big things that helped me find my voice was my twin sister, Emma.

She's also autistic.

She also deals with multiple chronic illnesses.

Having her as a constant in my life through some of my hardest times gave me the confidence to continue and to move forward.

Imagine a little girl sitting on top of the refrigerator, screaming.

Her parents stand by, not knowing how to help.

Nothing they do can ease her pain.

She's going to have to help herself.

You're looking at that little girl.

But I have grown so much since then, and much of that is thanks to this little dog beside me.

I was always a sensitive kid.

When I was around eight years old, I developed debilitating anxiety.

I struggled in school.

I felt disconnected from everyone around me.

I was diagnosed with depression and had multiple anxiety disorders, including obsessive compulsive disorder.

Every day I'd spend hours washing my hands till they were raw and red.

People made fun of me.

I felt alone and confused.

Why was everything that came naturally to those around me so impossible for me?

Why could I never just fit in?

I started having what my family thought was tantrums.

It turns out these were actually autistic meltdowns.

I wasn't intentionally misbehaving.

I was dysregulated and I needed support.

These episodes were intense.

I'd run out into the snow barefoot, I'd lash out at those around me.

My parents were scared to go out in public because they didn't know how I'd behave.

I had a best friend for the first time in fifth grade.

For the first time, I had sleepovers where we talked and joked around late into the night.

But by seventh grade, things had started to fall apart.

She made new friends who were more "normal" than I was.

After that, I didn't have any friends for a long time.

I was in therapy and on meds, and it helped me a bit.

But my quality of life was still so poor.

It was around that time that I started researching service dogs.

I always connected deeply with animals and I knew that a service dog could help me.

But my parents said no.

They didn't think I was disabled.

I continued to do research and I started to suspect that I might be autistic.

So again, I went to my parents, but again, they said no.

How could I have autism?

I could talk.

I got good grades.

I was nothing like the autistic people they'd previously known.

I went to my primary care provider anyways, and she agreed to get me assessed.

A year went by before my assessment, and sure enough, I'm autistic.

After my diagnosis, the people closest to me began to do their own research.

And my parents finally allowed me to apply to a service dog program.

I was so excited to submit my application to the program I had been researching and dreaming of for years.

But... after six months of sparse communication, they ghosted me.

I was devastated.

It was a few months later that by some miracle, the dog that would change my life stumbled into my life.

My twin sister was scrolling on Instagram one day, and she came across a reel featuring a six-month-old service dog in training.

When she sent it to me, I was immediately drawn to the dog.

Her name was Cove.

I emailed her organization, and had soon after met with her trainer on Zoom.

After that initial meeting, my mom continued to talk in depth with him, and on a cold morning in mid-November, I found out that I had been officially matched with Cove.

(applause) On December 18, 2023, after more than five years of trying to get a service dog, I met Cove for the first time.

It was raining, and I paced back and forth inside my college's athletic center, waiting for Cove and her trainer to arrive.

When they did, I ran out into the pouring rain without a coat on, and Cove met me in the middle of the parking lot, climbing onto my lap and licking my face.

(audience "aw"s) Cove and I still had a long way to go as a team.

We didn't know each other yet, and we had to learn to trust one another.

I was terrified that I didn't deserve her or that I'd wake up a few months from then and I'd regret getting her.

I also continued to struggle with my relationships with my family.

One family member didn't want to be seen out in public with Cove and me.

They seemed embarrassed by me.

Another family member kept asking me not to bring Cove places.

They didn't understand my disability or how Cove helped me.

But with some difficult conversations, things improved.

And... with time, my fears around my new life lessened and then my world, began to change rapidly.

Cove can warn me that I'm going to have a meltdown before I even realize I'm becoming dysregulated.

She can lie on top of me, the pressure of her body calming my nervous system, and she interrupts harmful behaviors such as lip picking, and it helps me regulate in healthier ways.

This summer, after I got Cove, we traveled together to Chicago, just her, me, and my twin sister, for a giant convention.

It was chaotic and it's stressful, but Cove's presence made it manageable.

I also kept acting, an interest I'd had for years, but struggled to pursue.

I made real progress, booking roles in short films and in commercials, and in signing with an agency.

I am now closer than ever to my goal of representing autistic people on screen.

(applause) Today, I'm a junior at Connecticut College, where I'm double majoring in theater and biology.

I am doing better than I ever was.

I am living proof that it really does get better.

You just have to be willing to fight for the life that you want.

Many service dog handlers would stand here and tell you that their dog saved them, but my story is different.

I had to save myself first.

Now, with Cove, I get to actually live.

Thank you.

(cheers and applause) ♪ ♪