In fact, everytime after we “did the bump,” as she referred to it as, she would wink at me and comment on how a quarter pounder with cheese ALWAYS went well after sex.

My ex weighed 227 pounds and she was proud of it. In fact, everytime after we “did the bump,” as she referred to it as, she would wink at me and comment on how a quarter pounder with cheese ALWAYS went well after sex. Especially if it was bad, which was often.

My ex’s last name was actually the name of this web-site, but that’s not important. What is important is that she got pregnant and then blamed on me, even though I would always pull out everytime wearing a condom. Precaution never goes too far when you’re a junior and college bound.

Now, my ex didn’t so much blame me as in saying, “It’s your sperm, your child,” as she knew very well it couldn’t be mine. Might she have taken me up on going on Maury Povich for a paternity test as I requested, things would have been all but case closed, but she didn’t.

In fact, she wasn’t even blaming me for impregnating her, but rather, for being so bad in bed that it led her to be unfaithful and go with some other guy who impregnated her.

I was in a lose/lose situation here.

The reason I brought up the weight issue in the beginning, though, was not to poke fun at her. We both had our faults, mine being my love for eating icepops when we “did the bump.” But I mentioned it because, with such a great deal of poundage on her (and also a preference to wear overly baggy Pelle Pelle clothes), she was able to hide her pregnancy from her parents for six whole months.

SIX WHOLE MONTHS!

After the six months ended and the bump started to show, her parents came to me.

“What kind of man are you?” I’d get, which was always followed by, “You’re not a man, you’re a boy. A rotten, little bitch of a boy!”

And at seventeen, I was. I really was.

My ex eventually moved down to Georgia, had the baby, and left me alone forever. But it wasn’t until a whole year after the baby was born that she finally told them it wasn’t mine. Her parents sent me a card.

The only word on it was, “Sorry.”

Comments

No comments yet, why not leave one of your own?



Leave a Comment or Share Your Story

Please Sign In. Only community members can comment.


 
SMITH Magazine

SMITH Magazine is a home for storytelling.
We believe everyone has a story, and everyone
should have a place to tell it.
We're the creators and home of the
Six-Word Memoir® project.