The Biological Father

As I state in my 100 Things list, my daughter’s biological father isn’t involved in our lives in any way, shape, or form. Here’s part of that story:

December 31, 2003: New Years Eve 2004

I join my cousin and her bf at a local restaurant/live music venue. Lord knows, we’ve spent years going to this place, and it’s one I enjoy for a few reasons:

1. Never a cover charge.
2. Great food.
3. Decent live music that’s usually “danceable.”

This night, the offering was a five-course meal plus champagne at midnight — all for $50. Not too shabby for NYE!

I arrived a little earlier than my party, so I did what I do well…met people. At the bar, I met a pair of men (who, as it turned out, didn’t even know each other) who were great company. One, in particular, interested me. There was something about him that looked smart (sometimes, looks are *just* looks). Black turtleneck cableknit sweater…Lucky jeans…dark hair, gorgeous smile, glasses…he even smelled good. Even after my party arrived, we chatted off and on through the rest of the evening. I was definitely interested. Let’s call this guy “LD” (for reasons to be explained later).

Close to midnight, my friends and I left the restaurant to head outside to watch the fireworks viewable from the block party downtown. LD joined us. At some point, we kissed. Yum. Very nice. Too quickly, midnight arrived, and it was time to head back to my cousin’s house for a small after-party — very small, just she, her bf, and me. I invited LD to join us if he wanted, so we could talk more. And, I have to admit, more kissing sounded good too.

That’s all I had in mind. Really, I swear.

At my cousin’s house, the four of us goofed off for a while and enjoyed another drink. I can honestly say that I never crossed beyond “buzzed” into “drunk” (trust me, I’ve been there before…this wasn’t one of those times).

My cousin and her bf headed to bed. LD and I sat in front of the fireplace, talking and kissing. Within a few minutes, he started to get fairly grabby, enough so that as he tried to slip a hand up to my breasts, I shoved back (hard enough that my elbow met the glass of the fireplace, and I had a burn to show for it). “No,” I said. After a few more minutes, he pushed again.

That set the pattern for the rest of the night. I wanted the kissing, but not more. My “no” was consistently met with a push for more. Honestly, I should have cut things cold off…but I didn’t. I enjoyed the kissing…and that would have meant stopping THAT. Things progressed, and I allowed my own boundaries to be pushed…and pushed again…and pushed again. “No” ceased to have meaning, and eventually, I just stopped saying it.

It was over before I even realized it had started. Seriously, this was a “you did WHAT?!?” kind of moment. As the joke goes:

Woman: Are you in yet?
Man: Unnnnngh.
Woman: What do you MEAN you’re done?

Suffice it to say, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a smaller penis in my life, hence, the name LD (little dick, as a friend of mine christened him).

I was astonished. Things weren’t supposed to go THIS far. For crying out loud (for the love of god, even - LOL), I wasn’t on the PILL. I don’t remember now what I said to him, but I was pissed. I cleaned up as I could, and went to sleep rolled away from him.

I’ve had “oops” moments before — in a relationship, thanks — but never before have I felt this immediate panic of “oh. my. god. I MUST get the morning after pill. NOW.” as I did on New Years Day 2004. Let’s not even talk about the worries of STDs and AIDS — which, thank god were not a problem. Since pharmacies were closed on January 1, on January 2, I purchased three packages of birth control pills, and with knowledge gained from the Internet, I took enough pills (10, then 10 more 12 hours later) to act as the morning after pill…same hormone content.

LD called me over the next couple days wanting to go out. HUH? I was astonished that he clearly had no idea what he’d done. (And obviously, I wasn’t clear in telling him.) I told him that I just didn’t see anything working with him, and that no…I didn’t want to do “dinner and a movie.” He said something about my being a bad judge of character to make up my mind so fast about him (uh, ya think?), but to his credit, he didn’t hound me.

From then on, I downplayed what happened on NYE, even to myself. If I’d “handled” it, it didn’t happen, right? No one knew what had happened. I’d made a joke to my friend who named him about fooling around “but nothing more than that.” If I didn’t admit what happened, it didn’t happen. As the next weeks followed, I believed my own stories.

Then there was the wakeup call…January 21, I learned I was pregnant.

Again, I say…my daughter wanted to be here. She fought against the odds to make it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Someday, though, I’ll have to decide what to tell her about her father.

That’s the simple version of a story that was actually a lot more complicated (aren’t they always?). As time goes on, I may choose to share more.