It’s a 9! It’s a 6!

Does there have to be a “bad guy”?

Must it be someone’s “fault”?

Which came first? The chicken or the egg?

Comparative suffering is a waste of time. Pain is pain. -j.x. griff

Pain. I’ve been stewing in it for months and months. I’m convinced that Love Bomb bypassed such pain, certainly this long-standing pain I’ve felt since our relationship dissolved. I get that she was in pain too, and rightfully so. I hurt her. I’m sorry. I really am.

But I think she sort of worked it out, if you will… She knew that I had a hard time letting go of “The Boy”. After all, she busted me planning an interlude years ago. I’m not sure that it ever would have resulted in any intimacy between me and Boy, but I was prepared, just in case. Knowing me (seriously), I would have gotten cold feet and chickened out long before an opportunity to hook up ever arose. Yep, I’ve been known to wonder what it might have been like had we stayed together. We probably would have been married. We probably would have had children. We probably would have gotten divorced.

Letting go is an issue for me. I recognize that.

The Boy came for a visit in May 2016. His littlest sister was graduating from college that weekend. It was, indeed, a little odd that he asked to stay with us, but we were trying, I thought, to be friends. The visit was fine, it was fun to catch up and reminisce. And then, after his departure, he text me a dick pic. LOL. Gross. You know, Love Bomb never even asked if there was any sexual tension between me and Boy during the visit, so a few days later I told her about the pic, and how, perhaps in haste, I got scared and I deleted our entire conversation. She didn’t get mad, but we did laugh about it. It was funny (and did I mention gross)! But there was also a lil part of me that was intrigued.

Despite the fact that dick pics are wholly revolting, I was flattered. Flattered that he still thought I was beautiful. Flattered that someone had expressed desire for me, something I hadn’t really felt in quite some time. That was my fault as much as it was Love Bomb’s, as we had grown stagnant and fell into a dull routine. He called me at work the week after the pic to apologize, and I accepted his sheepish excuse with an offer: “If you want to communicate with me, perhaps we should create email accounts for that purpose”. And so, we did.

It must have been around June, gosh, it may have been earlier, I can’t remember, when I got a mailing from my college announcing a College Choir reunion. God, I loved my College Choir and the notion of a reunion complete with multiple classes singing in the old Chapel warmed my little heart. It only took a moment for me to hatch a plan, deceptive as I knew it was. I thought: “this could be my one and only chance to try for a baby the ‘good old fashioned’ way”. I always found it amusing when people would hear of my fertility struggle, even with the knowledge that I was a “practicing lesbian” (haha), they’d say, “just relax and it will happen”, uh, no, I assure you, it will not happen unless I try. And I can’t tell you how many times I lamented with other women who also weren’t succeeding with having babies, only to find out that one day they got pregnant – by surprise – the good old fashioned way.

Now, I’m not a promiscuous gal. I was never going to find some random dude and fuck him, that was just never going to happen. But this reunion – this reunion presented a unique opportunity to get hundreds of dollars worth of tried-and-true (he has 2 kids) sperm for free (and yes, for fun). And so, I rifled through my old IVF supplies and grabbed a pack of birth control pills. Day 1 of my next period (in July), I took one pill a day for 7 days to push out my cycle a week. Day 1 of my next period, I counted the days and took a few more pills to try to manipulate my ovulation to occur on THAT reunion weekend.

Now, Love Bomb knew about the reunion. I invited her to come, and she declined. If she had wanted to join me, she could have, but I couldn’t see how this reunion would be any fun for her while I went to rehearsals, anyway. Besides, I had a plan and I believe she did, as well …

It was late summer/early fall, about 2 months or so before the reunion, when Love Bomb, sitting in her blue recliner, admitted the following: “If you were to cheat on me, I might find it to be a turn-on”. Oh, really? Huh. Well, okay, then. Permission granted, it seems. I don’t know how we got to that point – why she said that to me when she did. All I can figure is that she suspected my pending infidelity. I mean, she knew about the dick pic, she knew about the reunion, and she knew I had struggled to let go of Boy, once upon a time. She knew that this reunion would be nostalgic and safe. She knew all of that. So, knowing all of that, WHY did she encourage me? She did encourage me.

I’ve come to the conclusion that she encouraged me because she already knew she wanted out, and should I cheat, she’d have the excuse she needed to end it. And it would be MY fault.

Fault. Is that the same thing as being wrong? As having caused the breakup and the heartbreak? Is it my fault, or did I fall into her trap, thus making it more her fault? Is it a 6 or is it a 9? – It’s both. They’re both wrong. They’re both right. It depends on how you look at it.

I do wish I had been honest with her about my conception plan, but I was afraid she’d say “no” to the whole thing, and it was just too important to risk missing the opportunity. Conception was the goal, but I won’t deny that getting there was fun … more so the email flirting, less so the actual deed. I was never proud of myself, but I was desperate for that one last shot, the good old fashioned way – my very last chance to maybe, just maybe, be a Mom.

Nope.

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