I met my boyfriend in high school but it wasn’t the typical teenage romance you’d imagine. Throughout the school years we remained close friends. I think the thing that really got us bonding was that we lived close to each other. The long, sweaty bus rides were spent dissecting and discussing our teeny-tiny high school world. He would be obsessing about his girl problems (and there were many), and I was obsessing over this one guy I just couldn’t get over. Standard stuff. We both went separate ways for college but managed to stay in touch throughout. When we got back to our hometown, after spending three years away – there was something different about our equation. We were chatting everyday and texting, and on one drunken night out with friends, he made the first move.
Soon, we had been dating for two years and had been sleeping together for six months. Yes, you calculated it right – even though I knew him since we were teengaers, I made him wait a long time before we started having sex. It’s just one of those things – you just have to wait till you’re absolutely ready. It was his first proper relationship as well, so we were both navigating the rules of being in a serious ‘sexually active relationship’ together. One of the major issues we tackled was, of course, birth control. One of the rules we both stuck to and are extremely proud about, is that we always, always used a condom. Even when we travelled to a gorgeous getaway, miles away from home and forgot to carry a pack. Picture this – we had an expensive room overlooking the gorgeous view of the Himalayas, a freshly-made bed, a beautiful bathtub filled with warm water, bubbles and rose petals. We spent hours making love, but didn’t have sex. We were that strict about the rule.
But let’s face it – no matter how careful you are, you can always run into trouble. The unfortunate incident began when the condom broke. As soon as we realized what had happened, I whipped out my reliable period app. I was a few days away from getting my next period and had already stopped ovulating a while back. I had two options, I could take an emergency contraceptive pill or wait till Aunt Flo payed a visit. All the while I was trying to figure out my next move, my adorably sweet boyfriend sat next to me, holding my hand with a panic-stricken expression on his face. He clearly wanted to make sure he was there for me, but was clueless about how to handle the situation.
Even though it was a bold choice, I decided against taking the emergency contraceptive pill. I read up about how it could possibly affect my cycle and I just wasn’t sure if it was worth it. What that decision cost me was several long sleepless nights. I had to wait to see if my period was late. The only thing that I could think about was how if I did get pregnant, I’d have to research about other abortion methods. I could already imagine sitting with my boyfriend in the waiting area of my gynaecologist, waiting for our dreaded appointment.
When, according to information available online, I was eligible to take the pregnancy test, my boyfriend promptly brought one for me. Apparently, I’m old enough to be in a serious sexually active relationship but not enough to brave the snide smile of the chemist guy.
So anyway, I planned to take it at night so I spent the entire day stuck with the feeling you get before a doctor sticks a needle in you. It was the same amount of dread! Taking the test was the easiest part, all I had to do was pee on the stick and wait for five minutes.
When a single line appeared, confirming that I was NOT pregnant, I was thrilled to bits. But the first call I made wasn’t to my boyfriend, it was to a gynaecologist. I decided it was time to discuss better and more reliable methods of birth control. Next, I called my boyfriend, which was followed by my best friend. She was the one who had been patiently listening to me while I ranted about how I was SO not ready to get pregnant and how I was never ever having sex again.
As if on schedule, I got my period the next morning.
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