Broken hearts lead to some of the most impulsive decisions known to mankind. I should know, I experienced several. I wish this had a fairytale ending, but that rarely ever happens in a normal life. I loved, then I lost, then I found a quick fix. Who knew that it would lead to some catastrophic consequences? Everybody wants their cake and eat it, too. I tried. It was sweet at first but had a severely bitter aftertaste. At what point do you come to the decision of sacrificing your best friend for the love of your life? I never chose a side. That’s probably why my tale took such a left turn. Truth is stranger than fiction. Here’s my story …
It was the beginning of another year for me at the local community college. I had convinced my boyfriend at the time to take his first year on campus with me instead of opting to do it online. It wasn’t too much of a difference between us. We both were twenty, but I was a month—literally—older than him. We should've been in the same class, but for other circumstances, I graduated a grade ahead of him in high school. We came from two different worlds; him being a public-school kid, and me a private school brat. I guess opposites attract, right? It did in our case. We were going on our third year of dating, and trust me, it hasn’t been an easy ride. Love never is. We had our rough patches like any other couple, but hey, this wouldn’t be an interesting story if it didn’t come with some emotional drama.
Anyways, it was a simple day like all the others; an unusually warm Maryland temperature, partly cloudy, and quiet. My classes had finished for the day, and I would've usually gone to search for my man (whom we will name “Shawn”) before I left, but we were fighting from the night before, and I honestly didn’t want to see him. We were on the verge of a breakup and that left a sour aura around us. Surprise, life had other plans for me. I had a counseling session with the Campus Counselor that I totally forgot about and was rushing over towards the upper level of the cafeteria. I loved my counselor; she was the best. I had only known here for a year and a half, but within that short amount of time, she had come to know about my whole love life; the good, the bad, and the ugly. Yes, I know this wasn’t her job and she was only an academic advisor, but I was hurting … and her services were covered in my student program. She didn’t mind helping me which I would be forever grateful for.
I made it to my session and left her office in tears as expected. I tried to pull myself together inside of the elevator. It was only a two-story building, but I needed that “alone time” gather my emotions back inside of its box. I hadn't planned on running into Shawn in the hallway, but it wasn’t exactly a pleasant encounter. We awkwardly stared at each other before I finally broke the silence. My counselor, who’s name I cannot recall, suggested what I thought to be a great idea. I asked him if he wanted to do a group session with me with her. He just continued to stare at me as if I were speaking gibberish. I asked him again which he finally replied coldly as “you’re the one who needs help, not me”. I was crushed. My heart was hurt. This was the final gesture, the final plea, the final straw that broke the camel’s back. We were over. In my fit of raging emotions, I told him that once I graduated, I was leaving Maryland for good. I didn’t know what good running away would solve, but it sure made me feel better in the moment. He’d wished me luck and oddly said that he didn’t want me to go. That all didn't matter anymore, and I walked away.
It was a few weeks before my twenty-first birthday, and I should've been feeling excited, but instead, I was wallowing in my pain for several days straight. My best friend tried all she could to pull me out of my funk, but I was being stubborn. I didn’t know how to let go of my hurt. I was a complete wreck. I somehow have a way with attracting my opposites like a magnet. My best friend and I are the same way. I met her through a mutual friend at work and we just grew closer. I’m more the partying, outgoing, crazy, impulsive Libra while she was the quiet, calm, reserved Aquarius. This time was different.
That same night, she suggested that I come out with her to chill with a couple of friends from work and some others. I initially told her no, but she didn’t take that. If I had the power to see into the future, I would've been more resistant and stayed in bed. But life is all about trials and errors. You live by learning. She came to my house to pick me up. I admit, I looked like a mess from my quick pinup hat job to my faded black leggings. I could tell that she was judging me, but she didn’t say a word. I opened the door and hopped in as we drove off into the night a couple blocks down and into a random neighborhood.
I tried to look around and see where I was, let alone, who was there. I’m by far not a people’s person, and she knew that. We pull into a driveway and around to the back of the house where the garage was. I saw an outline of two people there, and the antisocial being inside of me was praising “the less the better”. The closer we got, I could tell that it was two guys; one I recognized and the other I didn’t.
The night turned out to be okay. We played some cheesy board games, talked about work, and drank some alcohol. My birthday was in less than four days, so a few pre-drinks wasn’t going to hurt me. I was about to be legal anyway. The liquor had surprisingly kicked in way faster than expected and I was stumbling over my feet. While in our boozed-infused state, we decided to play a drinking game—I bet you can imagine how that turned out. It was already late, well, later than what it originally was, and I was by now gone out of my mind. The last thing I remember was giving the random guy a kiss and throwing up out of the passenger side of my friend’s car.
The story picks up from here over the span of the remaining months left in the year. Like every drunken escapade, I didn’t wake up at home. I found myself fully clothed (nothing happened so this is not one of those stories) and hungover in the room of our host alone. I heard voices coming from another part of the house. There was a mirror vanity set over in the corner that I willed myself to get up and check out. Ugh, I was horrible. I went out into the other room and asked if one of them would take me home. Then I realized that my I didn’t have my purse. It was still inside of my friend’s car. I knew she had to work, so I asked if I could get dropped off there. That wasn’t one of my brightest ideas; showing up hungover and sloppy at your job, looking for your friend to unlock her car in the middle of her shift. I made my way home and tried to put the whole ordeal behind me.
My birthday was tomorrow, and I was feeling a bit better about myself. I didn’t remember exactly how it happened, but I was yet again back at the same guy’s house this time of my own accord. I'm not sure how our connection had blossomed; it just happened. I had his number not remembering where I got it from, but I tried to hang out with him. He really didn’t want to because in his mind I was still under “legal” age. So, to solve all problems, I had offered to spend my birthday with him which he agreed to. The rest of the year went on as followed: we started spending several holidays together, even randomly picked nights we would just go and hang out. My best friend felt otherwise about him. She would give me her two cents about the situation every time I went out to see him. I didn’t listen. I was in love … or what I felt like love was at the time.
This is the part in my story where it takes a huge turn of events. It happened the last week of January in the New Year when I find out that I was pregnant. Those every-shocking two blue lines on the test. I didn’t believe the first one, I mean, who does really? I ended up taking three and each one gave me the same result. The first two I took alone and called my best friend out of shock. She immediately rushed over to my house and stuck another test in my face.
Those results forever changed the course of my life and brought me to where I am present day. Now, I've been asked the cliché question of “if I had a chance to go back and do it over, would I”. I have a very different view of that question and feel as though it’s a trick because I can answer it with two very honest answers. If I had gone back and changed it, yes, because the circumstances in how it happened could've been better. WOULD I, no, because then I wouldn’t have my child today. Although I feel as though life didn’t carry me in the most graceful of spotlight in this era of my years, I am happy for the unexpected blessing it led me to.
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