So there’s a funny quirk about me and going through breakups. In addition to the reliving of “what went wrong” or the “phew it’s done” or the crying or the not sleeping or the what-have-yous, I always think I’m pregnant.
Yeah, no, I’m serious.
If there was any sexual contact during the end of the relationship that could, in the minutest of possibilities, cause a pregnancy, then I am certain that it’s happened to me. Even if I have no symptoms.
Stop laughing at me.
I don’t know why I do this. This is actually one of the reasons I don’t get the women on the show “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant.” I mean, really? Half of them seem to pay no attention to the correlation between their sexual lives and their physical symptoms while I, on the other hand, pay too much attention to mine. Sometimes I wish I could be more like them, convinced I’m not preggers, free to drink…ok, well, I do that anyway.
But this time, this most recent breakup, I totally freaked about having a baby. My boobs were sore. I was getting weird cramps. The combination of a lack of appetite and not sleeping well left me nauseated during the day. I thought to myself, “Well this is shitastic.” So I thought on it some. And I thought and thought and thought. Wanna guess what I thought?
And I tried, tried, tried to tell myself I wasn’t pregnant, tried to be like those silly women on TLC or Discovery Health or whatever channel carries that blasted show. Much as I tried, I kept getting that nagging “what if” in the corner of my mind. So I did something I’ve never done before.
I marched into Target, bought a store-brand pregnancy test, and unintentionally found The-Clerk-who-has-to-start-a-conversation-about-every-item-you’re-buying. I went home, waited a few days, and then peed on the stick.
Yes. That’s correct. I peed on the stick.
And wow – why have I not been peeing on sticks in previous breakups?!? I saw that negative result and every nagging voice in my head went away. It was like POOF!
Just like that, with colors of the nonexistent baby
Then I laughed at myself for actually peeing on the stick, and I was all proud that I had no trouble understanding the result. (I guess it's really not that hard to understand if you read the instructions first, which I did approximately 4 times before reading them again while peeing on the aforementioned stick, but I'm still damn proud so I get to count those points).
GAWD I’m so weird. And this is why my mother cannot yet know about this blog.