Context: My dear friend KC matched with Daddy on Bumble one morning when we were trying to recruit randos to go to Trio brunch with us. As one does. He couldn’t make it, but did follow through the next weekend, bringing himself and his roommate to brunch at Front Page. Because if you don’t do at least one brunch per weekend, do you even live in DC?
Every ho knows that the scariest fucking thing in the world is accidentally getting pregnant.
Like, I am NOT trying to ruin my body, career, and life before I am happily married to a man who makes a shit ton of money. Also, giving up caffeine and alcohol for nine months of pregnancy and then however fucking long you need to breast feed your spawn? NOPE. Nada. Not today, Satan.
So when I blacked in while laying in Daddy’s bed, I had a moment of terror.
Record scratch. Freeze frame. How did I get here? Let’s take it back to the beginning.
One drunken night, post-margs at Lauriol Plaza (classic), KC and I decided that we wanted to do brunch at Front Page that Saturday. Without asking any of our friends if they could make it, we made a reservation for 8 people. Because, like, who wouldn’t want to hang out with us?! Right.
The next morning, after we had collected our mess, KC and I started texting people. We cobbled together a group of 3 of our girlfriends and my ex-boyfriend’s coworker (weird, but w/e). That left two spots for Bumble to fill – and Daddy was first on the invite list. KC messaged him, and he said to count him and his roommate in.
That Saturday, KC and I were late to brunch (literally what’s new) and our friends were all seated but the time we got there – except the Bumble boys. We retrieved them from outside the restaurant and immediately noticed that Daddy was like meh looking but his roommate was pretty attractive. Target locked down. We headed back to the table, where we began with our first round of orange juice-heavy mimosas. Not about it. We flagged down our dear waiter, Julio.
KC – Hey love! Would it be possible to get a little more champagne in our next round of mimosas?
Julio – Sorry, they are pre-mixed, I can’t do that!
KC – Well, that’s not going to work for us.
A bit of sweet talking later, and we had a bottle of champagne on the table alongside each pitcher of mimosas. Bless you, Julio.
About an hour into brunch, we decided that things would be MUCH more fun if we told Julio it was my birthday. His eyes lit up, and he ran off to the kitchen, only to return with a GIANT Moscow Mule. My life flashed before my eyes. Was this really happening? Was I going to survive the day? Would I ever emerge from the inevitable blackout?
Julio – I poured half a handle of vodka in there!
This was the end, I was certain of it. At least I would go down in a blaze of glory. I took a deep breath and chugged deeply from one of the comically long bendy straws.
An hour later, our checks were paid and our vision was hazy. Also I think KC gave Julio her number, but there’s no way to be sure.
Daddy – Do you guys want to come to our rooftop to hang out and play drinking games?
All – YES.
Never say no to rooftop drinking.
We made our way over to the boys’ roof, filled up some cups with beer, and began a game of beer pong.
This is where everything goes black.
The next thing I remember is waking up mid-sex with Daddy, confused – partially about what path of events had led me to this moment, but mostly about why drunk me didn’t choose the cute one. UGH. Well, I was here, might as well enjoy it.
We finished, napped, watched Chicago (unsure), then I hazily departed for my home, picking up 3 powerades and 2 gallons of water on the way. The hangover was REAL. I realized I had gotten his number, decided I was never going to text him, then fell asleep fully clothed and probably with my contacts in because I’m a mess like that.
Me: Even though I don’t remember if we used protection, I’m sure everything is going to be fine!
Morgan Freeman, narrating my life: Everything was not going to be fine.
Fast forward 3 weeks when I was supposed to get my period and didn’t. UH OH. NOT GOOD. I was like, low-key freaked out, but I wrote it off to be stress and calmed myself down.
For about 20 minutes.
Then, I was DEEP in the woods of Google, searching ‘how much does an abortion cost’ and ‘natural abortion remedies’ and ‘how much can I request in child support from a 23-year-old who has a fairly average salary’.
The answers? Well, you see:
– An abortion costs about $400-$600 dollars and there’s a pill you can take if you do it early enough THANK GOD;
– Suggested natural abortion methods include eating a lot of mango and papaya because something about hormones. idk really because I immediately sprinted to the grocery store and bought all their mangoes and papayas.
The alternative title to this post is “Papayas are really gross but not as gross as childbirth”.
About 900 batches of mango guacamole later, a week and a half had passed and I STILL hadn’t gotten my period. I’m sure the stress of thinking I was pregnant was also doing WONDERS for my hormonal system. I sent a $300 Venmo charge to Daddy for the lolz and finally filled him in on the situation.
D – Oh, fuck.
J – Are you excited to be a dad????
D – Have you taken a test?
Daddy had a point. I had not yet taken a test. I made grand plans to do so one Wednesday night at my friend R’s place, and she insisted on buying the pregnancy test.
R – I love buying embarrassing things and seeing people’s reactions!
Geez, R, where were you when I was taking Plan B?!
I had alerted all of my friends that tonight would be the moment of truth. I went to Whole Foods, bought 2 bottles of wine and a significant amount of cheese, then headed to R’s. She presented me with the fateful test, and after tossing back a glass of wine, I peed on the little stick. I set it out in the bathroom to process while chugging more wine and watching The Voice, then we braced ourselves. I was… NOT PREGNANT! Hallelujah! Praise Mary! There is a God!
I did what any totally sane girl would do, aka took a picture of the negative test and sent it to everyone I knew and told Daddy that he would NOT be a dad after all but could totally still complete my Venmo request if he wanted to (he didn’t). I then finished the bottle of wine and headed home to fall asleep on my little cloud of non-knocked up happiness.
I got my period the next day and immediately cursed all of the deities that I had praised just the night before. CRAMPS ARE NO JOKE.
And that, my friends/Internet strangers, is the tale of the time I thought I was pregnant. By my best friend’s Bumble match. It’s a wild world out there, folks, and I’m just living in it.
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