Recently, I lost my phone. I ordered a new one, and prompted my friends, via social networking, to text me their name and number. The following few days I got names and numbers from all kinds of friends. Then, one day while in class, I got a text stating, “I’m pregnant, we need to talk.” At first I laughed, and thought it was probably one of my friends taking advantage of their new phone number anonymity. Then as I sat there, I thought about my past few months…
In the last few months, I went through a breakup. It caused me to do all kinds of things and act erratically and out of character. This is how I “lost” my phone after blacking out and getting kicked out of a cab from drinking too much. I vaguely remember thinking to myself, “yeah, I could be homeless. I could handle that. Fuck it, i’ll sleep right here for the night.” I woke up under the Fullerton St. overpass, filthy, without my sunglasses, and phone-less, convinced I had contracted some rare bird flu or tuberculosis from the pigeons sleeping and subsequently shitting over my head. This is how it works for a hypochondriac. What a fucking idiot I can be sometimes. It’s laughable. Soon, after I cleaned the dirt and pollution off, I would forget all about this.
Another one of those out of character things was sleeping with a woman I know I didn’t love or care about. This in turn resulted in an even more deep seeded depression, and even more erratic behavior: these things tend to snow ball on me. As soon as the night was over, I broke it off with her, and conveniently, I lost my phone. This made life simple now that I didn’t have to deal with her emotions on top of mine. I realize this makes me a dick. . But, I cannot help it. I am a human and in a low spot myself. If it makes you feel any better, I convinced myself I had contracted aids. This lasted for a few weeks. All I could think of was the failure of my previous relationship.
Fast forward a few weeks later to the text: Instantly, panic set in, and I assumed this was her number. I began to feel sick. What the fuck was I going to do? This was just perfect, break up with the girl of my dreams because of imperfect circumstances, only to knock up some girl I hardly knew and didn’t love. It was my worst nightmare. Attached to someone I didn’t want to be attached to, detached from someone I desperately wanted to be attached to.
I sat in my car thinking about what to say, what to do: suicide, not coming back from Panama, marriage, and then the big old “A”. I was raised very catholic, and in fact went off to seminary for a while. I quit because I knew that life wasn’t for me. But, there were some very strong beliefs instilled in me during those formative years. Namely, abortion is wrong. This is something I always felt, I never wavered, secretly I judged those that had them. Look at me with my “morals!” How convenient!
In an instant, I was turning on my principles. I was begging for a mulligan. I justified it: how could I ever provide the physical, monetary, or emotional support for a family? Especially at this point in my life and considering all of the context. Abortion it was.
“You need to consider ‘Plan B.” was the response that I texted in return. It was simple, and straight forward. I could not consider emotions, or I might be talked out of it. I needed this more than anything. It was the only way.
So, I waited for the reply. Anxiously for an hour I waited. Feeling sick how cheaply I abandon my principles. I was a low man without a spine. The lowest of all: I had nothing. “BEEP” my phone rang out and alarmed an incoming text. It was that number. I opened the text and read, “hahahaha. Gotcha. I am on my way to the car.” It was my class mate I give a ride to. I had told him earlier of my new cell phone and the need for numbers.
…still sickened with myself, but relieved. I guess I know myself a bit better now. And, I know I should really avoid judgement of others. Everyone has their own battles.