For the first 6 months that I was sexually active, I slept around. And was not particularly safe about it. This must strike you as too much information. We've all done very private and very stupid things in our lives.

I reflect on this period (no pun intended) because back then, when I had a pregnancy scare (and I've had several) it didn't even occur to me to involve the potential father in the situation. There was a bitterness in me that wanted to be left alone with the consequences. Because I couldn't run away from it. And men, no matter how sensitive, supportive, or fair can always choose to walk out the door.

It sometimes felt that a pregnancy would be evidence rather than life. Fingerprints lifted from the crime scene, or a mark on the forehead...

Maybe I figured that it was my fault.

I have discovered recently that sex is a mutual act. Does this sound obvious to you? For a long time it was like looking in a mirror for me; the better it was, the more I liked what I saw.

I guess I used all those imaginary embryos like weapons, proof of someone else's selfishness.

Man, I was a fucked up kid.

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.