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2:36 p.m. - 2001-10-22

AND MAYBE THE POPE COULD BE OUR BEST MAN

So we were talking at lunch about my nephew and his surprise baby, when I confessed the scariest pregnancy scare I ever had.

I was 18 and my girlfriend Treva was 17. She was a virgin, while I had been deflowered by another girl a few months earlier. So I had a better grip on how the whole sex thang worked. I was the experienced one in the relationship...the romantic Lothario...Mr. Been There Done That...El Sex Machin-o...Captain Shotthewad...Dick B. Dangling.

A few months into our relationship, I started getting...how should I put this? Hornier than a mofo? Desperate for a dickin'? Helping Mr. Happy find a new home?

So one night, with my parents away, we adjourned to my bedroom for a little smoochin' session.

I think back to those days now and remember just how hard it was to get a gal to loosen up. I remember kissing until my lips were chapped and bleeding without even touching a buttock or boob. Now, after 15 years of being with the same woman, I can say "Get naked" and she's naked before I can get the word "Get" out.

And Treva made it quite clear...she wasn't ready for sex. She was a cheerleader and had big plans to someday be a circuit court judge. So sex would have to take a backseat to her lofty aspirations.

So this night...we went to my room and the sex gods were on my side. I had managed to get us both stripped down to our underwear. Granted...it probably took upwards of four hours to get to this position, but at the time, I would take what I could get.

So I manage to get a little dry hump in. I climb on top and did the old "pretend screwing". Kinda like "This is what it would feel like if neither of us had our underwear on" kinda thing.

This little exercise can prove to be dangerous to the guy. If he goes a little too far and blows his load in his jockeys, then he gets cemented to his undies for the rest of the night. And women, you may not understand this, but every guy out there has had to pry a pair of underwear off his pecker at one time or another after the spoot has dried and believe me...it's about as fun as a chemistry test.

So we get our groove on, and I can only speak for myself, but I was having a blast. Treva could walk away a virgin and I could walk away semi-satisfied with a shiny pair of blue balls.

And that's how the evening ended. Nobody walked out a loser...everyone's a winner.

So a month or so later..."George" is late.

This was the first time I ever heard the girl refer to her little visitor as "George". Apparently, that was her Mom's nickname for her monthly bonus as well.

So Treva freaks out, thinking she's pregnant.

Now...I'm no Rhodes Scholar. But I was pretty damned sure that a virgin couldn't get pregnant. You had that whole Virgin Mary thing but that was a couple of hundred years ago and there was really no one around to dispute the issue anymore.

I tried to convince her that she wasn't pregnant. But it was like trying to convince a baby that jalapenos are actually good. She didn't wanna hear none of that shit.

As the days went by, we both lived in fear that we were about to become parents. In a way, I was secretly hoping that was the case because then MAYBE she would give in and finally have sex with me since I went and got her pregnant and all.

I remember laying in bed late at night on the phone, listening to her cry and think that her entire life was over because of my horniness.

Gals...just a word of advice...if you REALLY wanna make your man feel like crap...blame him for your pregnancy before you've actually had sex with him. That way, he feels like shit and still has blue balls as well.

Back then, we didn't have "Ask Jeeves" to find out if a virgin could somehow become pregnant. In fact, there were very few avenues for us to pursue short of encyclopedias and they weren't all that helpful, though I did find out a shitload of fascinating information about penguins one night.

Finally, it was decided. She was going to abort the baby. She was five days late and that was long enough for a gestation period to have occurred.

So we got in my car and drove to downtown Nashville to an abortion clinic that she had found in the phone book.

We finally found the place and it was closed for the Thanksgiving holidays. Who the hell closes their offices the day after Thanksgiving? We've got young virgins out here that are in dire need of an abortion, dammit!!

We drove home in silence. Well...I say silence. If you count mind-numbing screaming and wailing as silence.

Sunday, she got her period.

And I exhaled. Never in my life had I been so scared. And no matter what ... I was never EVER going to dry hump Treva in my undies ever again! It just wasn't worth...

...Hey!!

Maybe that was her whole idea all along! To scare the crap out of me so bad that I never wanted to get her in my bedroom and play Twister in our underwear ever again!

Why that little shrew!!

It was her plan all along!!

As a follow-up...she and I dated for almost two years. By the time we both got to college we had graduated to doing the same thing with no underwear on...and no actual sex either.

Then...one night, in my college dorm room, the unthinkable happened. I slipped during a frantic friction rub and ended up inside of her.

There were no complaints from either party.

So I stayed there a while. Hey...I'm here...may as well make myself at home, y'know? Prop up my pecker and stay awhile.

We broke up soon after that and then went through a period that still serves as the prime example of the term "on again-off again" today.

It's been almost 20 years since I've seen the girl. Back then I thought I'd never be able to get over her.

But I have.

Having a good woman and a wonderful son will do that to you.

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