Valentine by default

There they were.

Under the sink.

A whole box of them minding their own business. But I wasn’t.

I had gone out with her and mutual friends the night before, not planning to have a slumber party. There was only one issue, that night before was February 13th. We had two beers at her place before going to the bar and having a few more. One thing led to another and before the clock struck one she was passed out on her couch as her dog scowled at me.

Not having much experience with comatose women, I wasn’t sure what to do. Was she faking it? Did she legitimately pass out from 4 beers in a night? Was her dog interested in taking things to the next level?

So, I did what anyone would. I texted a few friends asking for advice. The think tank was split between my options.

I could have left and gone about my blissfully lonely life. That would have meant leaving her in an unlocked apartment in the city.

Or, I could have stayed the night. I hadn’t packed my jammies or sleepover essentials like contact solution. This is the plight of the myopic. Plus, I’m notoriously bad at sleeping in other people’s homes.

Should I stay or should I go?

With her slumped in the middle of the couch, there wasn’t enough room for us both to pass out there. That left only one other place to sleep. Her bed. I can’t say I’ve slept in many women’s beds, but when I did, they weren’t in them.

I put a blanket over her and turned off the tv before retiring to her bedroom. The drinks started their assault on my digestive system. I may not like sleeping at people’s places, but my bowels sure fancy foreign toilets. At this point, I was sitting on her toilet questioning my life choices. I reached for toilet paper and discovered there were four squares left, one of which was coated in glue. This is when I reached over to the sink vanity in search of another roll. Had I left, I wouldn’t have seen what was under the sink.

On the outside of the large pink box was a picture and the text “First Response Pregnancy Test.” Realizing I couldn’t wipe my ass with those, I found a roll of TP.

My paranoid mind started to wander. Why would you need the economy box? The next 10 minutes were excruciating. What had I gotten myself into? How did I end up here?

Then, I looked down at the stick and saw that I was not pregnant.

With the ebullience of a man finding out he’s not the father on Maury, I got into her bed with her dog and fell asleep.

I woke up early the next morning and ran to the grocery. Selfishly, I was hungry and she didn’t have food. I grabbed a pack of bagels and two roses. One for her and one for her unborn. Returning to her apartment, she had woken up and changed into pajamas. I gave her the flowers, we had a bagel and I wished her a happy Valentine’s Day before I went on my way.

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