When I was 20 I was engaged to a young woman who was a year older than me. Over time, I decided that I wasn't really ready for the big "M" yet and broke off the engagement. She wasn't too happy about this, I should gather, but she took it in stride and we tried to eke out something close to an amicable friendship in the company of our other friends.
One night in February of '94, about two months after the break-up, we all (she, myself and some mutual friends) got together to play a Dungeons and Dragons game. Very fun and involved. We played for around 7 hours straight. As we stepped out into the cold, winter night to leave we realized, to our dread, that we'd been snowed in while in the throes of our role playing game. And I do mean snowed in. Three feet in the course of 7 hours. It was something none of us had expected.
Left with no way to leave the house, and thoroughly exhausted, we camped out there. Most of us had our own places to sleep- some couches, extra beds and whatnot. In the end, though, it turned out that two people would simply have to share a bed together. Since my ex-fiance and I had already shared a bed for 8 months, we saw no reason why we couldn't endure it for one more night. If we behaved ourselves, nothing could go wrong, right?
The next morning, well, "old habits die hard", as they say. It was morning, the bed was warm and so were we. In retrospect, it was nice and gentle and not at all uncomfortable. We talked about it afterwards and decided that, no, it didn't mean we were together again. It was just good sex.
A few weeks later, it was like a wall had come down between us. I'm talking "Iron Curtain". Whenever I walked into a room she was in, if others were in there, things would get real quiet and she would promptly leave. I had no clue what was wrong. Apparently my friends were under some sort of code of silence.
A month later, I was at work and got a call from my parents. "Come home as soon as you get off work," they told me in no uncertain terms. I was beginning to wonder who'd died. So... I make off for my parent's house, they escort me out to the pool and then tell me, "Son, you're a father. She's pregnant. One of your friends told us, since they couldn't tell you."
That has got to be the single most embarrassing thing I've ever had to experience. I mean, damn... that's the kind of news you break to your parents, not the other way around.
Incidentally, the baby didn't hold. Years later we (my ex-fiance and I) patched things up and became decent friends. My parents weren't vicious or snide about anything. But they were all kinds of disappointed, to be sure.