Sort of a First

So I'm sitting at home in the afternoon this weekend slowly reducing my stress levels, which had achieved epic heights recently, and I get an email from Pam (you remember Pam) asking if I'd like to hang out and talk about something important.  I was so close to saying, "Hey, yeah, love to but I'm feeling..." blah blah blah, you know the drill.  I certainly do.  Anyway, on a whim because miraculously I had nothing else to do and I figured I could use the company, I said, "Fuck it, yeah, I'd love to hang out and talk."

We met at this coffee place (where I was miserable because I love coffee and the smell was driving me insane but I've pretty much cut myself off from the bean) near her apartment and made small talk for a while, then she finally blurted out, "I'm pregnant."  And cue Matrix bullet time as my brain went, and I quote, "Huuuuuhhhhhhhhhh????" in slow motion.  Actually, it was less coherent than that, probably more like, "Whabbahabbadeehoowhawhaaaa???"

If this were a man telling this story, the reason for the comedy/drama here would be obvious.  But since I could hardly have gotten her pregnant, my reaction was more based on the abruptness of the announcement, not to mention the fact that it wasn't like we were bosom buddies or anything.  Sure, we'd had a threesome (yeah, you didn't click those links and now you're wondering, or you thought there was only one link and missed the important part, so go back and read it, I'll wait).  But I didn't know my own sister was pregnant until three months or so went by.  Why the Hell was she telling me?

For a few reasons, as it turns out.  First, they're relatively new in town, so she doesn't know that many people.  Second, she couldn't tell anyone who might tell her boyfriend (the father, and we know this because it wasn't me and he's the only other person of the fathering persuasion she's fucked in the past year at least).  Third, she couldn't tell her family, not yet.  Fourth, I now understand that my little tryst with the two of them meant more than I thought, because she's seeing me as a friend with whom she can talk because I told her once about her panties showing.  Yeah, go fig.  So I was the only person she could tell, I guess.  Everyone else was out by process of elimination.

So yeah, being the first person to know something like this is a bit out of character for me.  I mean, the first first.  Not one of the first.  After she found out, she told me.  My own family don't always do that, as I said.  Not with pregnancies, necessarily, but with stuff of that nature.  And this was a big first deal.

It was kind of tough after that.  I'm just not that personally invested in it.  That it's quite likely that the baby was conceived the night of the threesome makes it a bit weirder, though she didn't make a big deal about that, just mentioned it offhand.  I don't know them, or her.  I tried to talk with her, to be supportive, but I don't know that I did that good a job.

She was getting a bit distraught and I suggested that we adjourn to some less-public location, which of course wound up meaning I invited her back to my house even though I didn't want to because despite my great love for my family I'm still slightly ashamed to bring people home and have them find out I still live with my parents.  I know, shame, shame.  Anyway, she didn't even seem to notice; we went in the back door to avoid any confusion and wound up in the playroom downstairs.  I went and got her a glass of water and asked my parents to keep scarce, to which my father raised a knowing eyebrow until I told him that no, I wasn't enjoying myself.

She was crying.  God, it was terrible.  I didn't want to deal with it.  I'm not proud of that; global community and selflessness and all those ideals.  I just wanted her to go away.  I spent a certain snarky few moments with her crying on my shoulder thinking that if I went to her with a problem out of the blue, she wouldn't be as nice.  I don't know if that's true, and it's probably not fair, but I thought it anyway.

Once she cried out the hysteria, she started talking, and I nodded and injected small listening noises and basically let her talk my ear off, during which I learned most of what I've said above about not having anyone to whom to go.  She was worried about what Kirk would think.  She was worried about her parents.  She was worried about being a single mother.  I didn't really have anything to say about any of it.  I still don't know her well enough to do anything more than say, "It's okay," which would be a lie, because I have no idea if it's okay.

I did try to cheer her up, and she started smiling a little.  We moved from the big stuff, at which I could be no help, to the less major stuff, like how no one would ever love her if she got fat.  To which I replied, "Hun, I bet you'll be a sexy preggo."  And cue the bullet time effect again, because at that point she kissed me.  I knew it was worth renting the bullet time effect machine for the whole day.

Remember how I said that not every woman is bi?  Yeah, it's still true.  Despite how it might seem, there are many, many straight women out there.  I've made passes at a few of them, believe me.  I don't tell those stories because they tend not to be sexy.  And in this case, I maintain that Pam is not terribly bi, because the kiss wasn't that sexual, and in her emotional state, I couldn't swear she wouldn't have kissed anyone who said something nice to her.

I kissed her back, I'm not going to lie.  But when she stopped, I let her pull back and wipe her mouth (why do they always do that?  It's cute, but it's still pretty silly for grown people to do that) and look confused.  A queen of seduction would have said something like, "It's okay to be confused, honey.  Just let your body tell you what to do."  Or something like that.  I am not a queen of seduction.  I said something like, "Well, that was nice," and she looked me in the eye again and saw that I was grinning a little, and then she did too, and we started to laugh, and so I ended my first very brief make-out session with a pregnant woman by making her laugh.

It's okay.  If I had tried to go farther, who knows what would have happened, but it wouldn't have been real.  She was just so freaked out at that point that I would have been taking advantage.  Not that I didn't want to, a bit.  I was moistening by the minute thinking about it.

She didn't try to kiss me again, and I didn't make any moves, and she eventually went back to talking for a bit longer.  Finally, I told her that my only advice was not to keep it from Kirk much longer, because it was better to tell him and get it out in the open, for her if for nothing else.  I don't know if that's the right advice at all.  I'm still a bit torn up about having given her what may turn out to be terrible advice.  But I couldn't really stop myself.  I had to say something.

I offered her another glass of something, or to go somewhere else for a bit, but she said she felt better having talked it over with someone.  Maybe that's how I was able to help.  If so, that's good.  She didn't seem to feel awkward about what had happened at all, and once she had calmed down, God I was tempted to ask her to stay and maybe test the waters a bit more.  I even (what was I thinking) offered to help her talk to Kirk.  She looked tempted, so I followed up with, "Of course, I'm just saying that because I want to get back in your bed, you know that," with a shit-eating grin, which made her laugh.  I love being able to tell the truth and have people think I'm joking.  Except I think she knew I was telling a bit of the truth, because she said she and Kirk had talked about having me over again (ego boost) and all that had stopped them was the current situation.  More impetus for me to resolve it.  Not that they were all that great in the threesome department, but hell, I enjoy being with a couple just for the idea of it.

She kissed me as she left, on the cheek, but it wasn't one of those forced things, like she was trying to prove that the other kiss had been misinterpreted.  It was just a kiss on the cheek.  I'm okay with that.

So, sort of my first preggo.  Not really, because I don't think it counts unless she's showing at least, and I didn't get anywhere but a long kiss.  Still, hope for the future, I suppose.  I may make a tag for Pam if things go well.  I'm hoping.  I could use a diversion.  My current gig is not sexy at all.  No, actually, I'm making a tag for Pam, because hope springs eternal.

After all that, I called Sveta and told her about it, and in no uncertain terms that she was not to get pregnant despite my enjoyment of the idea.  She giggled (which drove all thoughts of anything but her from my mind) and said she had made plans to surprise me but she'd change them now if that's really how I felt, to which I replied that maybe I had been hasty and if she really wanted to get all juicily knocked up and have little demon babies, who was I to stop her?  She doesn't seem to share my impregnation fetish (thank goodness, I think) so I'm not worried.  She likes creampies, but not the natural result.  I'm also pretty sure she's less into women in general than I am, but hey, that's okay with me too.  God, if she'd been there after Pam left, she would have gotten so many orgasms it's not even funny.  As it was, I almost gave her one over the phone telling her what I'd like to do to her if she ever got pregnant.  But her stupid roomie was there, so she couldn't do anything about it.