The Story of T

I met T sophomore year of college. I broke up with A in the fall of that year, and met T in the spring. I had been pretty emotional after A and I ended, so I didn't feel like doing a whole lot of socializing through the winter. When spring came, R started to drag me out on weekends. People at our school had a lot of parties, so it was never hard to find somewhere to go. That same term, our neighbor (and classmate) K was living by herself. He best friend/roommate was abroad, so she started hanging out with me and R more. K had hung out with a particular group of guys (all a year older than us) since freshman year, so in the spring, R and I started hanging out with them too.

K's birthday fell on a Saturday that spring, so she, R, and I decided to spend the whole weekend out celebrating. Since we were sophomores, we had gotten used to the college partying lifestyle, but had not yet grown bored with it. It was the perfect time to be completely stupid and irresponsible. We still had the childish mentality that we were invincible--that bad things only happened to OTHER people. That spring was the reason I finally grew out of that mindset.

On Friday night, we went to an island themed house party hosted by K's guy friends. The minute we walked in the door, R and I met K's friend T, who was walking around in a towel (to go with the beach theme). T and I immediately started flirting, and wound up spending most of the evening together. As the weekend rolled on, our flirting grew more intense. The next weekend, K, R and I went to a cocktail party hosted by the boys. T and I spent most of that evening together too.

T was very charismatic. I was really starting to like him. He was a musician (which I am a sucker for--who isn't?), he studied the same thing that I studied, and he was very... passionate. Almost hippy-ish. He was a free-spirit, who liked to have fun, to play or listen to music, and to generally live it up in any way he could. Everyone liked him, and everyone agreed that he was pretty enigmatic. There was definitely something different and mysterious about him. I think people were drawn to him because they had never met anyone like him. I knew I hadn't. It was almost like he was from a different planet or something. He was so laid back, and always laughing or joking. He was incredibly confident, but not cocky. He was very magnetic.

It wasn't long before T and I started making out, holding hands, and pretty soon, sleeping together. T's confidence definitely translated into the bedroom as well. He could also be very affectionate. T loved to cuddle too, so I definitely didn't get the "just sex" idea from him. Unlike most guys I have spent the night with, T didn't immediately want to roll over and go to sleep. He would just lay there and hold me, and we would talk about anything and everything.

As time went on, and I saw more and more of T, I really wanted to talk to him about our relationship. I was pretty into him, and I wanted to know if he was in the same place emotionally as I was. One night, when my roommates were both out of town, he came over and we cooked dinner together. We talked over dinner.

I didn't even have a chance to ask him where he thought our relationship was going. I think he could sense it coming, and made a preemptive strike. He told me, "I don't want a girlfriend right now." Ouch. I didn't really say anything. I was hurt, surprised, and a little angry. It had all been in my head. I felt like a fool. Of course he just wanted me for sex. I didn't confront him about it. I just let it go.

The school year ended maybe a week later. R and my other roommate moved out. I was staying in the house alone all summer because I had gotten a great job at a place in town. R would be returning to town in a couple of weeks to be a dorm counselor for a summer program at the college for high school kids.

As the days passed, I started to feel strange. I can't really explain what it felt like, but something was definitely off. That was when I remembered (and this is going to be a little too much information), that the last time T and I had slept together, about a week earlier (before the dinner talk), I had had my period. I was a tad bit drunk when it happened, and couldn't remember the next day whether or not I had remembered to (really no way to say this except directly) take my tampon out before we got busy. I felt like it must still be up there somewhere, and was possibly what was causing me to feel odd. Well, I was right, and I managed to get it out.

It didn't really get rid of the odd feeling, but I felt like it might take a couple days for me to get back to normal. Still, I started getting a sinking feeling that it was something else. I thought that I might be pregnant.

I talked to R over the phone, and she assured me that it was probably nothing. T and I had always used condoms, and the added fact that I had had my period the last time we had sex made it even more unlikely. Still, she said, I should take a test when she got back into town the next week.

I was hoping R would forget about it. I wasn't supposed to get my period again for at least another week or two, and for some reason the thought of taking a test was scarier for me than just waiting two weeks. But when R got into town, it was the first thing that she insisted we do. We drove to the store and bought three different types of tests--six tests total--you can never be too sure.

When we got home, I delayed a bit, and then finally gave into her argument of, "Just take them, it will make you feel better." Five of the six tests came out positive. I did not cry. I did not panic. Surprisingly, I wasn't surprised at all. R cried. I just sat there calmly.

I never debated about what to do. I knew I couldn't keep it. I wanted to finish college, to keep my life on the track it was on. And I did NOT want to have T's child. I thought about what my life would be like raising a child and being permanently tied to T. I couldn't imagine being able to give a child the life it should have where I was in my life. I could not handle the idea of going through a pregnancy and giving my baby up. I knew what I was going to do the second I saw two blue lines on the first test.

I also never debated on whether or not I would tell T. I just did. I called him that same night and said I needed to talk to him. He came over the next day and I told him. He had ABSOLUTELY no reaction. He just said "okay," and agreed to pay for half of the medical costs. No shock, no pain... not even anger. Absolutely no emotion. I still have a hard time dealing with his reaction to this day. It was not like my calm reaction--which was completely a result of shock and numbness. His reaction never changed. He told me that he just didn't ever get emotional about things.

R helped me find a Planned Parenthood, and even called and pretended to be me to make the appointment, because I was too scared, and by that point the emotion had kicked in and I was a bawling mess. The only appointment they could give me was over two weeks away. They told me that someone would need to drive me, and I had to ask T, because R did not have a license.

The two weeks between finding out and my appointment were pure hell. I was working full time, and in the evenings I came home to an empty house. R was in town, but had to live in the dorms on campus for her job. I talked to her on the phone, but could rarely see her because of the rules of the program she was working for. It seemed like every time I turned on the TV there was a diaper commercial, or an episode of a TV show about an accidental pregnancy, or a pregnancy test ad. I spent my evenings laying on the couch crying and wishing I had gone on birth control before college.

After my parents' tirade when they found out about me and S having sex, I never talked to them about things like that again. I didn't know how to get birth control on my own. I should have figured it out. But I was young and stupid and thought that nothing bad could ever happen to me. I thought the condoms were enough.

I couldn't bring myself to drink caffeine or alcohol or anything that a typical pregnant woman is not supposed to consume. In spite of my decision, I couldn't bring myself to harm what was inside me. I know that it doesn't make sense. Maybe it was instinct. A week before my appointment, I started spotting lightly. I called the Planned Parenthood in a panic to make sure that everything was normal. I don't know why I called. Was I concerned about my own health? I'm still not sure.

The day before the appointment I called T and told him that he HAD to be on time to pick me up because if you are more than 15 minutes late they automatically cancel your appointment. The next morning, he was very late. I called and found that he was still sleeping, because he was hungover from a party he'd hosted the night before. We managed to make it to the appointment on time--barely.

I filled out paperwork in the waiting room, while T sat silently behind me. About a half hour later, they called my name. I went back behind the exam area doors, paid, and met with a counselor--all apparently standard procedure. It took about 15 minutes, and they sent me back into the waiting area to wait for the actual procedure. When I got back into the waiting area, I saw T walking out the front door. I called his name, and he turned around. I asked where he was going. He said, "I thought it would take awhile, so I figured I would go to the mall down the street and kill some time." I was too flabbergasted to say anything. What did I care if he was there anyways? I told him fine, but that he had better be there to pick me up in exactly an hour.

When they called my name again, they took me back to an exam room, where the doctor told me that I was exactly six weeks and one day along. He put me under conscious sedation, and I stared at the mobile above the exam table (tropical fish hanging from wires) while he did what I did not want to imagine him doing. Apparently a good number of people that go under conscious sedation don't remember anything that happens while they are under it. I was not so lucky. Afterward, they made me wait in another room full of other women who had just been through the same thing. We all looked out of it, sad, tired, confused. They made us eat crackers and drink juice to stave off the inevitable nausea.

When they deemed me in good enough shape to go home, they gave me the medications that I would have to take over the next several weeks, and sent me out the side door, which emptied into the parking lot. I looked around for T, who was supposed to be waiting for me, and didn't see him. I sat down on the sidewalk and watched protesters glare at me while they waved signs that basically told me I was going to hell. T finally showed up about ten minutes later. I half-heartedly yelled at him for being late, then, still loopy from the sedation, fell asleep against the window.

I had no desire to talk to T at all. He stopped at the McDonald's drive-thru on our way back and gave me some french fries and nuggets. I don't know why. When we got back to my house, he came in with me. I told him that he didn't need to be there, and he left. I slept for hours. I don't even know if I even woke up before the next morning. But the next day, I went back to work like nothing had happened. I told very few people that anything had. My parents never found out.

When I went back for a mandatory follow up appointment the next week, I immediately asked for birth control. Better late than never. I didn't even THINK of doing ANYTHING with another guy until I met M six months later. But I guess that is a story for another day.

I don't know what to think about it now. I know that I am thankful to be where I am in my life now. I know that T would not have provided a child with a present and stable father-figure. I know that part of me hates myself for what I did, but I have never regretted it. I know that I made the right choice for me. Sometimes I still cry about it. Sometimes I still wonder what things would be like if I had chosen differently. It is okay if you judge me for this, because sometimes I judge myself. I don't know what else to say about it, except that I definitely learned and grew from that experience. It definitely changed me--for better or worse, I still don't know.