At the age of 31, I finally got my shit together and left the man I'd been living with. He already had 3 kids with his former wife, who he'd married when he knocked her up with the first one. They had five more little mistakes, but managed to scratch up the money to abort three of them. When she came up pregnant with the last one, he said what the hell, you might as well have it. He then started fooling around on her. When the kid was 6 months old, he took the boys and left her with the baby. Hey, boys can play football, you know. He made sure his kids always knew what an inconvenience they were in his life. Unless it was football season, he mostly ignored them. Once in a while he'd beat the crap out of them, and then we'd have to deal with CPS. I was the one who got stuck dealing with them while he went out catting around with his buddies every other night. I felt like a single parent to someone else's brats. Those kids KNEW they weren't wanted, they resented it, and acted out accordingly. They'd have been better off never being born.

I lived with him and his junior delinquents for 4 years. I was so stupid, it took me that long to realize that I was nothing more than a maid, babysitter, sex partner and extra paycheck to this self-absorbed pothead. I got tired of being broke. I got tired of being "mommy." I got tired of coming home to police cars in the driveway. I packed my stuff and left.

Two months into enjoying my newfound freedom in my wonderful rented cottage, it occurred to me that I'd missed a period. Did the pee test. OH SHIT. Two lines. I'd let my pill script run out toward the end of that relationship since we hadn't been having much sex anyway. Well, duh...stupid. No excuses, no "I got drunk" or "failed birth control." I was just plain stupid.

Well, after I quit kicking myself for my stupidity, I wised up. There was no way in HELL I was going to have this man's baby and be tied to him for life. I'd just gotten free of him!!! I tossed the stick, grabbed the yellow pages, and made the appointment. I then called Mr. Pothead on the off chance I could get him to cough up half the money. His initial reaction was "oh shit, yeah, umm... whatever you need. Just get it taken care of!" But later, when it meant he actually had to part with some green, and his inflated "swinging dick" ego kicked in, he started telling me how "disappointed" he was that I would be so quick to "flush" the fruit of his loins. I told him to go wank. My sister drove me to the clinic. It was quick and relatively painless. And I've never, not for one instant, regretted it.

I'm not sorry. Not at all.