A monday afternoon some time ago, she texts me with, "Call me. It's important."
Strange. I'm in the car, so I ponder what's so important as we drive back to the office. I can't figure it out.
We get to the office and I step into the echoey stairwell for some semblance of privacy. I sit down on the stair and dial her number.
"I have to tell you this, but please wait to react."
An odd request. I'm probably one of the most calm-under-pressure people I know, thanks to years of professional gambling. In the split second before her next sentence I try to recall a time I overreacted to anything with her. I can't.
"The doctor called today," she begins. She had just been to the doctor for a routine blood test, "and she asked me whether or not I knew I was pregnant."
"Tynan, I'm pregnant."
It's simultaneously the worst and most unexpected news I'd ever gotten. It seems impossible that she could be pregnant. We always use condoms and there hadn't been any sort of incident which would be cause for concern. No point in thinking about that now - the reality is that it somehow happened.
The news is based on a blood test, not one of the error prone take home tests. This is serious. Instantly my life is seen through a new filter - through the perspective of me being a father in nine months. This is insane. I love kids more than anything, but I'm definitely not ready to have one of my own.
I have nothing to say. No amount of talking about my feelings or "how could this have happened?" is going to change the impending disaster. The result is an awkward conversation with more dead space than conversation.
We hang up and I walk back into the office. Todd asks me if everything is ok. Yes, I reply.
Every waking minute of the next day is occupied with thoughts of the pregnancy. I know that, like everything, everything will be fine in the end. I will somehow look back at this as it being a positive experience.
The next day she and I have breakfast, and alternate between normal conversation and tense conversations about the pregnancy. It's uncomfortable, but probably necessary.
She gets a call and leaves the room.
When she comes back she has a huge smile plastered across her face. It seems inappropriate.
"What?" I ask, impatiently.
She doesn't answer.
"I'm not pregnant!"
I dont believe her at first. For the past 48 hours I've known that I was going to have a kid, and unraveling that sort of realization isn't easy.
She goes on to tell me that they switched one of her files by accident with a pregnant woman, and they they were profusely sorry. Reality sunk in and we were overjoyed, laughing and talking about how fortunate we were. It's tough to appreciate the wonder of not being headed down fatherhood road until you've driven on it.
I'll tell you one thing, though - I'm done with sex for a LONG time. Having any chance of that happening for real isn't worth it. Sorry ladies!
Tynan, dude...I check up on your site every once in awhile ever since I read The Game. The "I'm Pregnant" blog was exactly like my life a few weeks ago as well...EXCEPT...I did not get the releaving news at the end! The awkward conversation...the disbelief...the questioning the rest of your life...all that! It is a tough thing to think about when you are not ready to have kids!
for a story on a website it was mildly entertaining.
Im sure in real life it would have been much better.
Anyway, Im pretty sure every guy goes through this at some point in his life.
Also, this site looks very gay. And I mean that in the homosexual kind of way. At first I thought this site was about being better than a gay guy's boyfriend. However, after reading that you were a PUA, I was very surprised.
Anyway, good luck not having sex. seriously.
I've got a lot of respect for you, your achievements and your attitudes.
But on this post, I can only have one reaction.
Don't be a such wuss.
A mans reaction to pregnancy news is a test of the quality of his manhood.
It is one of the biggest tests life can give you.
Sometimes life will throw you into a situation where you have little control, and ultimate responsibility.
We men who wish to improve your communication skills with women will all have to deal with this.
We are not just increasing our own capacity for pleasure, thereby gaining more control of our lives:
We are also upping the stakes in the game of life.
We are increasing the likelihood of creating babies.
We all know that we have to defeat our fears and become more manly in order to get laid more. But, are we man enough to handle the consequences of our actions?
This applies even more to those of us who understand the dynamics of evolutionary psychology as it applies to the game. Women are programmed to subconciously select for mates who can contribute to their joint offspring.
Can you back it up? Or is it all just show.
Please, don't take this as a mere flame. I don't mean to insult anyone. Not Tynan, not anyone reading this.
But if you, any of you, want to think of yourself as a full and complete man, then you should ask yourself how you would handle a situation like this. Are you man enough to take responsibility for a new life?
Damn man after having a girl that had a very irregular period I know what you mean about pregnancy scares.
Kinda makes you refigure things though.
Fuck off. Finding out you're pregnant or even thinking it is one of the scariest things a woman can go through. I just found out I'm pregnant and telling the guy is the last thing I want to do. I sure as shit wouldn't do it just for kicks.
Condom failure rate is 14%. Do some research if you don't believe me.
That's great that you got a reprieve.
Listen - girls pull this shit ALL THE TIME. It's like a standard damn dating proceedure to tell the guy she's pregnant just to see how he reacts.
Find a new girlfriend.
Sue the hospital - Seriously
I'm not into suing things and I wouldn't do it in any other situation
Even if they told me I was going to die and were wrong I wouldn't sue them this is far worse
For me a girl getting pregnant would be the worst possible torture ever
Like bowels of hell mental torture,
They put you through 48 hours of hell.
Sue the fuckers
I hate babies and kids.
What I don't get is that all of you guys are sensible and make sure you don't get the 'lady' preggers. What I don't get is WTF my current boyf thinking is. He had a kid with a girl at 18 then another - now she has run off and married some other guy. Home come TF he was so dumb?
I used to park my RV in a bad area of SF. No one else wants to park there, so it's always easy to find a spot. One night a friend and I were hanging out in my RV, we lost track of time, and soon the buses weren't running anymore. She calls a cab and we go outside to wait for it.
A cab pulls up, we say our goodbyes, and it drives right past us. Wrong company. A few minutes later another cab comes, and again drives right by. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a large black woman wandering around fifty feet to our left. Two more cabs drive by, neither one the right company. It's cold outside. We start laughing at the situation.
Noticing our laughter the woman starts staggering towards us.
My quest to become a breast milk donor has stalled. I am not able to find anyone that is willing to help me get my blood drawn. I'm sitting here writing and feeling the defeat, and the tears threatening. I can't remember the last time I cried, or felt this helpless and depressed. Here I am, doing a phenomenal thing. Donating my breast milk to babies that need it. Preemies in the NICU. Babies of Mommas that can't provide their own breast milk. I thought the phrase "I'm registering to become a breast milk donor" would win over hearts and get me the help I need to continue. Not so. I've been met with silence and "what are you doing? Oh."
So far, I've called five different establishments. That is including the CVS minute clinic (they don't do blood work) and the "Family Practice" that turned out to be an optician. Why would an optician name their practice "Mr. Whoever Family Practice"? Sounds like a doctor's office right? Incidentally, she gave the only warm response I received. I heard in her voice that she thought I was doing a great thing. If testing my eyes was a prerequisite for breast milk donation, she would have helped me no problem. On calls, my opening explanation goes something like this:
I'm sure I wasn't that clear. Each time I pick up the phone I'm very nervous as what I'm asking for is way out of the ordinary. The more I get rejected, the more nervous I become. And with that comes stuttering and a loss of words. I thought the hard part was going to be pumping the milk. Boy, was I wrong. Here's a rough transcript of the conversations I've had. I'm still surprised with the responses.