I was out in town with my cousin Phil when we ran into his two friends Liz and Mary. Phil had been sweet on Liz from our campus days, so he jumped at the chance to have her at our table.
Wanting to be the best wingman possible, I turned my attention to Mary while making sure to paint as good a picture of Phil to Liz. Thing is, Mary was actually a lot of fun. What started as an obligation became effortless.
We flirted openly, and I felt pretty confident about my chances with her. So I asked her if she wanted to leave, and when she agreed, I texted a now missing Phil that I was going to his place for a bit.
The flirting got more physical during the short drive. By the time we were getting into the house, everything was at fever pitch. We had unprotected sex! We both showered afterwards and drove back to the club. Liz was eyeing me with disdain when we went back, but I didn’t pay her any mind. I’m not really one for consequences. I told Mary as much in the very beginning, and she didn’t make too much fuss about it.
Mary and I kept in touch after that. We met up every weekend for about a month following our first night. Sometimes we used protection, but most times, we had unprotected sex. It was all fun and flirty, then one day Mary just stopped replying to my messages or taking my calls. I asked Phil to ask Liz if her friend was fine, but I got no response. I called Liz myself eventually. That’s when I learned that Mary was married. Her husband had come back from his studies right around the time she had stopped talking to me.
Now, for all my recklessness, I make a point not to sleep with married women. I struggled with the fact that Mary didn’t even hint that she was married. Then I felt really sad for her husband, no one deserves that. I was glad that she had stopped communication. I moved on with my life.
Then almost a year later, she messaged me. I really tore into her, asking her why she wouldn’t say she was married. She didn’t apologize; she just sent a picture of a baby girl.
She said she just wanted to let me know that I was the father of her baby. Her husband didn’t know. I remember feeling numb all over, rereading her message to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. How was this possible?
I tried to call with no answer. What did she want me to do with this information? Why did she even tell me? I was angry, but I didn’t know what about. I thought about my daughter whom I would never see. I thought about a father raising a daughter that wasn’t his. I had done this. I was ashamed of myself for the first time in a long, long time. This was a consequence I could not wrap my head around. I probably never will.