Third Time’s the Charm, Right?

#MyWorstDate

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Disclaimer: The names, locations, and some dates are changed for privacy reasons. Other than that, this is a true story.

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1) How I Got There:

Nobody is perfect. I believe that things happen for a reason. We all have our fair share of “dating mishaps”—mine is no different. This is a little story of how I survive a really bad breakup, a rebound, celebrating my birthday, and getting pregnant ALL within the same year! This is my experience that I am sharing with you because I know that someone out there can relate to this.

My story is a mixture of pure, raw emotions that comes from laughter, anger, sorrow, absent-mindedness, and so much more. This is from the heart and perspective of a real female with real hormonal feelings…

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2) What Happened:

2016, Summer Break.

I am reaching the end of my summer break from community college, and my boyfriend and I are having a bit rough patch. It is going to be a long fall semester at CEM—College of East Maine—because we both are going to be on the campus this year. Our whole summer we spend it arguing, and I know that this first day is going to be the worst! I did not want to see him. And I am pretty sure that he did not want to see me either.

The first day comes and goes. We did not speak at all. First this week, then the third week, then the first month…nothing. I finally gather the nerves to confront him. Someone needs to break the silence. After all, he is my boyfriend, I think? We have a brief conversation after his class, but it got me nowhere. Later that night, I ask him if I can come over to talk at his house. To my surprise, he agrees. It is awkward, I will admit. I go around 9:00 PM that night. Everybody is asleep in his neighborhood. He lives in the newer section of Belmont Villas; I use to live there too, but in the older section upfront. The parking lot is like a ghost town. I see him waiting for me on the sidewalk. I can feel my heart sink into my stomach. “What is going to happen tonight?” “How am I going to react?” “How is he going to respond?” “Are we even still together?” All of these thoughts are speeding at one hundred-triple-million miles an hour through my head (I know I am exaggerating a bit right now, but I am extremely nervous).

“Um, hi.” There is a long pause.

“Hi,” he finally says back.

I feel pathetic. He will not even look at me, not once. I am fighting back heavy tears. The conversation did not go as I plan. In fact, it turns completely left! Emotions are at an all-time HIGH! We are left with harsh, screaming words and gushing eyes... Now, I do NOT support violence, but I will admit that I have a temper-control issue. I know I took this next part a little too far, but you can only live and learn from the mistakes that you do—I am so engulfed in my own emotions that I lash out! Fists flying, clothes ripping, hair pulling, Jordan’s skidding across the asphalt; it is ugly! And, what made me feel even worse is that he did not fight me back. I look like an idiot out there making a fool of myself. After everything is said and done, and nosy neighbors come peeking out their doors, he speaks to me: “So where do we go from here?” I freeze. A hard lump forms in my throat. I try to speak, but no words will come out. He asks me again, "So where do we go from here, Ashley?"

"I—I—I want t—to keep…" I try hard to fight through my tears, "… to keep—"

"—To keep what?" he interrupts. “Going on like this?” The tone of his voice rises, “Fighting!”

I shrink into a little wet mouse with my tail between my crotch. I have nothing left to say, honestly. I want to apologize, but is this even the time or the place? A simple “I’m sorry” is NOT going to fix this…to fix us.

“I think we need to end this, Ashley.” He still will not even look at me. I can tell that his voice is swamped, but pride is keeping him from crying. “I love you, but I cannot keep going on with the fighting.”

Yeah, I break down. Not the pretty “Miss America” cry, but the ugly, snot-dripping, eyes-blurry, too-much-spit-choking cry. My knees are weak; I fall to the concrete. A little pool of warm blood puddles on my jeans from a scrape or cut somewhere. He did not even attempt to pick me up. I see him there leaning on the trunk of his mother’s 2016 white Nissan.

“Devin—Devin—!” I try to say something but nothing comes out. I pick myself up, “—so is this it?”

“I am afraid so.”

“Is there nothing that I can do? I can change! I promise! I can get help, go to—go to anger therapy, an-an-anything, I—!”

“Just stop.”

“—Devin, please!”

“No!”

A million daggers are piercing my heart. It is really over. And to add insult to injury, he gives me a hug and goes back into the house not looking back at me anymore. I am left alone in the dark outside, cold and bleeding, but most importantly… I am alone.

2016, Fall Semester.

It is once again the start of another boring school year and everything is still the same. OK, that is a lie. Everything is horrible! My three-year strong relationship is over and now I have to start school on a sour note. The stress from me and Devin being no more, plus no money to even get my schoolbooks, has my head in a tizzy. Is he going to be in my class? Is he even attending this year? Am I going to run into him on campus? All of these questions are flooding my mind, but whatever happens. I will be fine.

2016, October 8th-11th.

So, yeah, my birthday is coming up in two days and, boy, am I excited! FINALLY something to ease my mind from everything, and I am determined to enjoy every moment of it. I already spent the previous week house-hopping for endless bottles of liquor from various people. I am turning twenty-one, so of course, I HAVE to do it right! I collect just about two bottles of the finest Malibu's Coconut Rum, one Red Berry Amsterdam, a Torched Cherry Bacardi shot, and a fancy bottle of Hennessy VSOP Privileged (I normally do not like dark liquor honestly, but when it is free, hey, I do not judge).

A few times being on campus and I finally run into Devin, but it is nothing serious. He maybe tells hi once in awhile—I may say it back—and, yes, I did go get that counseling for my anger. We have a counselor on campus which plays perfectly into my well-being. But, here is the catch, the sessions can only work for as long as I stay enrolled in a class. I did not have that much money, so I barely get to use any of her services. I am still feeling a little mopey, but I only have one day left to go. My best friend calls me, wondering if I have died or some other horrible tragedy because we did not talk in over three weeks. I admit it, I am a still a complete wreck. She offers to take me out (like good friends do) and come have fun with some friends of hers—a mutual buddy that we both share and his best guy friend. I did not want to go—I want to just stay in my bed and sleep my sorrows away—but reluctantly, I go along anyways. Little did I know that that decision is inevitably going to change my life forever…

2016, The Holidays.

My birthday comes and it was AMAZING! Now, I know I might have been moving a little too fast, but that did not concern me in the moment. Me and "him" (my soon-to-be baby daddy) spend a few more days together after that first initial hang out. He is really cool and I really like that about him. I chose to spend my birthday with him and also my best friend. The rest of the months go on like so. I give him a chance and we begin going on dates. I come out of the house more and more, and to my surprise, I like it. His name is Adrien. He is just my type—tall, light-skinned, curly hair, Hispanic (a bit on the chubby side, but who cares)—or at least he did play the part well. Our time together is moving too quickly just like a whirlwind. We go from a group setting to just the two of us. My best friend tries to warn me, and I wish that I did listen to her. I can see that I am caught up in the moment and am in danger of drowning within my own feelings. Adrien provides me with that good time, and I fall for it. Yes, we did share our “adult moments” too, but he tells me all of the right things to calm me down. I realize now that I am oblivious to seeing the red flags going up all around him, but I am blind by infatuation. Every holiday: Thanksgiving, Halloween, New Years Day, we manage to spend it together in some way. For the most part, at least, I am happy.

2016, December 31st: New Year's Eve.

This is the last holiday together and, let us be honest, things between us go way down south. We are not going good at all. Lately, we are always arguing, even over the littlest of things. For a huge example: about the “how's and when's” I am to spend MY MONEY! Adrien is a complete deadbeat! He is always broke and is ALWAYS whining about not getting his way with me. I am done. At this point in my life, I am over him and I did not want us to move on.

I do not know how he did it, but he manages to convince me once again to spend a day with him...AND to use my own money to pay for all of the expenses. My best friend decides to come with us for the night, and honestly, I am happy for the tag along. I buy some dark merlot wine for her, but that whole night she did not drink one sip of it. So, in order to not waste my money, it is left up to me to finish it. It is extremely hard to get drunk off of wine, but buying a big enough bottle will do the job. We watch the ball drop from his house. To me, I am definitely feeling the uncomfortable vibe here between the three of us. Call me crazy, but I notice how he is paying just a little too much attention to my best friend. But what am I to think about it? I just let the feeling drop...for now. My intuitions never lie to me, so I do not know why this time I choose to not listen to it.

We are just about to leave, but before that, me and him end the night with a quick fling on his pool table. We did not care if my best friend stayed to watch or not. I can tell that she was feeling the awkwardness, so I see her make an exit to go wait outside in the car. I do not blame her (me personally, I will stay and watch, but she is a little more sexually conservative than I am). I toss her the keys, give her a drunken wink, and tell her to turn on the heat. I do not remember exactly how we got home from his house, but nothing on this great, green Earth can prepare me for the craziness on this car ride. I am already fuming over the unnecessary attention that my best friend indirectly receives from him—she is aware of it too—and he keeps adding insult to my injuries.

Saying our goodbyes, he notices that he hugs her a little bit too long for my comfort; picking her up and landing contact on her chest for a sloppy nipple-bite. I just lose it at that point! I charge at him causing him to almost drop her. I did not care whether the tramp falls or not. I want to leave both of their cheating butts stranded in the middle of New Year's night. Everything is a complete enraged blur to me, but somehow I am in a bed on New Year’s Day....butt-naked next to Adrien.

2017, January 1st: New Year's Day.

I feel disgust with myself. I gather my things and drive home. On the way, I call up my best friend to fill me in on what happened last night. She is the only sober one in the group, so it is only necessary to pick at her brain for missing information. She fills in the my missing memory gaps while I also catch her up on my recent "sleepover adventures."

The rest of this month is quickly flying by, but still, something just did not feel quite right to me. Once again, my intuitions kick in. I am feeling extremely sick and did not know why. Is there a bug going around? A bit nervous, but I take the obvious pregnancy test—my first one—and it comes out negative. What a breath of fresh air! I can cross that worry off of my list now...for the moment.

Now, now, do not get mad at me for this, but I did indeed reconnect back with Devin and we spend the night at his house. I see now that that is a very poor decision that I make on my part, but I am lonely from missing Adrien and need attention. Me and Adrien are currently not speaking which leaves me with no one. The night with Devin is going better than I expect. We cuddle up in the middle of his living room floor to have ourselves a “Netflix-no-Chill” night. Everything is going swimmingly! Everything, and then… BOOM! I barrel over Devin—almost falling over myself—and throwing up the toilet seat. Oh, my gosh, I am dying in that bathroom for a good three or more hours. Continuous switching from throwing up to the bubble-guts—it did not surprise me that I woke up the entire household. His mother comes rushing down the stairs. She stands in the threshold of the bathroom glaring down at me. I am sitting hunched over the toilet, leaning the side of my body on the cold sink, and resting my pounding head on its corner. Spit and stomach acid drools from the side of my cheek. I can barely raise my eyes to look at her—I feel weak. I can feel her body motions as she asks me that question I always dread: “Are you pregnant?”

2017, The Month of February.

I am embarrassing myself, and I need to just call my mom and pick me up. She did not like Devin, and currently, she did not like me either for even being over his house. We share a long, silent car ride home.

January is almost over, and the only thing that my best friend talks about is her upcoming birthday next month. Every day she calls me about a new theme she that she wants to try. That girl is crazy, but it is that very reason why I still love her. She wants to do something big—I do not blame her—but I do not know how that is even possible without first finding a babysitter for her four-year-old daughter.

I ate some soup and fruit to bring myself back to life. My body feels OK, but my mind sure did not. I still have that little thought in the back of my head: “Are you pregnant?” …Are you pregnant? Am I pregnant? I begin to question my judgement. Everyone is always talking about a “Women’s Intuition,” right? Well, I am definitely feeling it tonight. I remember what my best friend said to me: to wait until the end of January for my period to show up. And if not, then to retake another test. I drive to the nearest pharmacy store and pick up two different brand pregnancy tests. I sit nervously in my mom’s bathroom waiting for my results. This is the second test so far that I take. I am desperately hoping that this one will be negative too. Time ticks by, and I am scared to peek at the stick. I look anyways, though. I get confused. Call me "green" at this, but I did not know how to read this particular type of test—or maybe I just let my nerves shock me too much to even try and process the results—so, who better than to call and ask my best friend, right? She already has a child, so she knows what all of this mean. I mean, we both are two sexually-active grown adult women who freely talk about sex, drinks, and pregnancy scares. These conversations are just normal occurrences in our daily lives.

“Wait, wait, wait! Slow down! WHAT did you say?” she screams in my ear.

“Two lines, Gina! What does two lines mean?” I am completely freaking out.

“Are you sure? Send me a picture!” I hang up and send her the photo.

“See! What does THAT mean?” I yell!

“Oh, my gosh! I am coming over right now!” She hangs up.

I pace up and down the living room's hallway. OK, I am officially scared now! My phone rings, “Hell—”

“—Girl, I am outside! You are coming with me. Let's go!” She immediately hangs up. I grab my jacket, keys, the test, and leave.

The ride to her house is full of awkward silences and half-formed fragment questions. I show her the test. She stares at it, turning it sideways and upside down as if hoping to see a different result. She lets out a silent gasp, and my heart drops. We go inside and straight upstairs to her bathroom. Now, I know I may sound crazy right now, but we have known each other long enough that nothing phases us anymore in our friendship. She pulls out of her bag two more pregnancy tests that she bought along the way. She watches me awkwardly pee on the two sticks. We wait in silence as the tests work. While we wait, she tells me about the dream that her grandmother has about “fish”—the tell-tale pregnancy dream—last night, and asking all the girls in the house who is pregnant. Little did I know that that dream is about me. Five minutes pass and it is time to look.

“What does it say?”

She looks extremely hard at me, “GIRL!” she nervously laughs. “Is this your idea of a Happy Birthday gift to me?”

I become confused, “What are you talking about, Gina?”

“IT SAYS THAT YOU ARE PREGNANT!”

“No way! You are lying—”

“—BOTH TESTS! THEY HAVE TWO LINES!”

I almost faint at the moment. “Um, happy birthday, I guess…” I say to try and lighten the mood. I am freaking out even more. How am I going to tell my mom? How am I going to tell Adrien?

2017, The Great Reveal.

We head back to my house, and I am contemplating on how am I going to break the news. But, more importantly, what am I going to do now. What is surprising is that Gina is more of an emotional wreck than I am right now.

“Maybe we can call him.” She starts throwing out random suggestions.

I give her a sharp look, “NO! I—I cannot!”

“But you have to,” she plead with me.

“Then YOU tell him!”

“Alright, I will.” She calls Adrien. Despite their numerous issues, (and my slight insecurities) he actually picks up. They talk for awhile before she ends the call: “ …You are on your way? Alright, bye.”

This day can NOT go by any slower! The three of us sit awkwardly on my living room’s couch. I go into the kitchen and bring back a half-full soda bottle filled with some random type of white liquor and pineapple juice. I offer it to Adrien to try and lighten his mood.

He breaks the silence first, “So why did you two call me over here?”

“Well, um, I—she calls you—” I just cannot get the words out.

“Just tell me.”

“I am trying!”

“If you will not then I will.” Gina inserts herself in.

“Girl, hush,” I snap at her.

“Will one of you two JUST tell me!” Adrien grows annoyed. He stands up as if he is about to walk out.

“Alright!” I try to stutter out a sentence, but Gina's loudmouth beats me to the punchline.

“Ashley is pregnant.”

Adrien lets out a drunken laugh, “No, you are lying to me.”

“No, she is not.” I finally chime in.

Everybody turns towards me. “WOW!” He falls back down onto the couch. “So, you guys bring me all the way over here just to tell me something like this that you can tell me over the phone.”

“I mean… yes.” I shrink into my seat.

“So, what are you going to do?” He asks me.

I look up at him, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you going to get rid of it?”

I freeze into a block of solid cold-heart. My whole world crumbles. It is not even a matter of “are you going to keep it" or "adopt it"...oh no, he goes straight for the heavy-hitter: “are-you-getting-rid-of-it.”

“What do you mean is she getting rid of it?” Gina jumps on his case.

I am in tears at this point. I did not know where I am going on from here. Gina and Adrien are arguing over my situation over in the background.

“If you did not want this possibility to happen then why tell me that you were ready for the outcomes with me!” I find my voice. They both turn in unison back at me.

“Yes, I say things in the moment, but I do not want a baby. Especially not one with an immature, little girl like you. So get rid of it, now!” He exclaims and grabs his jacket, stumbling out of the front door while Gina shouts curse words behind him.

I have a breakdown. I just turned newly 21, and now I am facing the reality that I am now pregnant with no support from Adrien at all. Gina tries to comfort me, but I did not want it. I did not want anything.

2017, Summertime.

This summer is totally a hot mess—literally. I am having mood swings like crazy, hot flashes, a huge belly jutting out from my skinny body, and a crappy, deadbeat baby daddy. I finally break down and tell my mom. She kind of knows it already. I did consider abortion, but talking to her is really getting my head straight. Ladies, please take my advice on this: do not give up your children just because some man says he does not want it. the choice is not his, it is yours. I take her advice and choose my child. I tell Adrien my decision. As I expect, he is not happy with my choice. I do not care. He constantly criticizes me about how him claiming that “I do not need him anymore because I want to be an independent woman and make my own choices.” He even brings up more excuses like “how I did not love him because I decide to keep my child over him.” It is all nonsense, just pure, golden foolishness. The old me might fall for it but not now. He did not want this kid; that much is for certain. So, following in that fashion, I carry on with my life and that is it …

Now, did you really think that my story ends there? Oh, no, we are far from over. We are not even at the birth yet. This is still the summertime. A few months pass by, and my two friends—Gina and Ming—decide to plan me a surprise baby shower. I give Adrien an invite, but it did not matter if he shows up or not. This first pregnancy experience is a truly terrible one because of him. He is always stressing me out, always fighting with me, trying to make me feel as if I were the "bad parent who is trying to keep him away from my child." Yes, I did say MY child. I still thank God to this day that that idiot did not cause me to have a miscarriage. We clash almost every day now. We did not talk for awhile. And, do you know what? My life still goes on.

2017, September 28th: Happy Birthday.

Finally! It IS that time! This experience is all so new to me and it is definitely going to be life changing. It all happened so fast. I tell Adrien that I am going into labor. As much as I really hate him, I still want to let him know. My mom did not even attempt to try and call him, but I force her to do it anyways; either she or I do it. I give birth pretty quickly. Yes, I reluctantly decide to get an epidural. I am a little skeptical about it, but now I fully do support it. Drugs are a wonderful thing. My stay in the hospital turns out a bit rocky, but I it did surprise me that Adrien skips work and comes to stay with me. What is his motive? Is this a genuine change in him? Is he finally stepping up? I think not. That is just my personal opinion. Everybody else tells me that they have faith in him, but I do not. I still do not even in present time. That is the honest truth.

2017, Present Time.

We still have our beef. Neither one of us is willing to grill it up and eat it just yet. He is still a jerk, and I faithfully preach that every day to him when he acts up. Over the remaining days and months that go by, my mom did indeed grow some faith him him, believing that he is not completely a deadbeat. But, whatever...that is her opinion. We are still currently arguing over how he did attempt to steal Gina’s baby shower gift and pass it off as his own. That is some serious messed up nonsense and I am angry that he still will not step up and admit to it. That right there is the final nail in their friendship coffin. They no longer talk to this day—and, I am honestly OK with that. I can see that he tries a lot more now, although, I am still not very convinced. Oh, well … call me heartless if you may; I am not perfect, and neither is he. I have my reasons to judge him. This makeshift "family" that we have comes with its challenges; but nonetheless, it is durable to manage for the most part. But, my son is now here, Jay Elijah Holland (yes, he has his last name—that is the only thing that he is getting from that crazy man), and my crazy life can not be any better.

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3) What Did I Learn From It?

Well, here is the million dollar question—what did I learn? My whole outlook on people did change. I trust others in a different way now. I did, however, learn the joys and hardships of motherhood. As for me, I am still my usual self: a carefree, fun-loving, antisocial, "unbalanced-Libra-scale" self. When it comes to Adrien and I, we are currently co-parenting. What about a relationship, you ask? Yes, as crazy as it may seem, he is actually trying to straighten up and make a future relationship work out. We still have our many ups and downs; although, so that idea is still highly unlikely—for now. I fully am a supporter and proud user of protection now. Lots, and lots, of protection—and birth controls. I will take half of the blame—yes, HALF! Only half—from neglecting my first attempt at birth control. Now with these new ones, I am taking them without fail; falling into a daily routine. One child is enough for me. I am happy that I can have children—another blessing that I thank God for—but I do not want more any time soon.

The moral of my story is that I believe everything happens for a reason. The people, the situations, the outcomes, all of that has an unavoidable purpose in your life. You cannot always predict how things will turn out, but that is perfectly OK. It is totally OK to not completely understand everything. So, the best advice that I can give to you is just go with the flow of wherever life takes you. Do not stress too much over the things that are out of your control and just enjoy the vacation of life's adventures. Thank you for reading!

#MyWorstDate