Who's Your Daddy?

Back in April of 2007 I met a new friend from out of state. She asked me to show her around town but I had to decline the first night because I didn't have any clean underwear. Seriously. I called her back the next night and we made arrangements which included the whole awkward conversation that went like "I really can't go out drinking and drive home" and "Oh, that's fine, you can stay with me at the hotel" and "Really? Can I stick it in your butt, too?" Ok, that last part wasn't exactly in there but I'm thinking about making it a required question on future dates. You can't get pregnant from anal sex. At least I don't think so…

We hit it off pretty well. Actually, we hit it off very well. She was set to leave on Friday but there we were on Thursday night trying to get the flight changed. $440 freaking dollars to get the flight pushed back to Sunday. That's like paying for a separate round trip flight. I footed half the bill and she spent the weekend at my house.

That weekend the Renter had a new alarm clock. Instead of err, err, err it went more like yes, yes, yes! Yeah, one of the few times that yours truly was seeing any action. I saw her off that Sunday with promises that I'd call and come out to visit. I did call and email but you know me, I'm cheap, and coming up with the scratch for a plane ticket wasn't exactly feasible at the time. Maybe it was feasible but it would have cut into the drinking budget. I've broken up with women over drinking before. Don't give me the ultimatum, I will choose the booze over you. I know where my priorities are at.

After a while I didn't hear anything from her. I'd get the occasional joke email that she'd send out to all her friends but nothing of the personal fashion. And then all hell broke loose.

"You know that Jennifer's pregnant, right?"

The Renter had gone on Jennifer's MySpace page and saw a comment one of her friends had made. It was something to the point where her friend was asking if she knew if it was a boy or a girl. This was around January 28th. She stayed the weekend with me at the end of April.

(Counting on my fingers…)

Yeah, that's nine months.

Once again I didn't have any clean underwear but not because I hadn't done the laundry. I was shitting myself every day.

What the fuck would I, who can barely take care of myself, who consistently has bruises from falling down on the way home from the bar, who's greatest selling point with the ladies is… ok, I don't have one, but what would I do with a kid?

(Thinking…)

(Scratching my head…)

(Itching my balls…)

Ha, I've got it!

Nothing!

Nothing but have the government take an obscene amount of money out of my paycheck every two weeks. That's a scary thought. That's a lot of money. Thoughts of retiring at 50 were quickly squelched.

But then the Renter sent her an email. It went something like "I was on Myspace and decided to check out all the people on my friends list. When I came to your page I was shocked to find out that you are having a baby. Congrats!!!!!!! This must be very exciting for you. Do you know if it is a boy or a girl? When are you due?"

(People still go on MySpace?)

Jennifer responded. "Any day now. Does B to the… know?"

Yep, I can throw those underwear away.

Actually, the response came back that she was due in June.

(Counting on my fingers again…)

I counted up to eleven just to be sure that I wasn't going to be a proud parent. Yes, that did involve taking off one of my socks. I crapped my pants again just for the hell of it. It was becoming an every day tradition. I was thinking about buying stock in Fruit of the Loom. I know it sounds gross but you get used to it. I highly recommend all of you try it. Life altering.

So I was not going to be a father. I was not going to have the government reach into my wallet and reach around and squeeze my balls at the same time just for good measure. No, instead I felt like I had just won the lottery. I emptied out my piggy bank, dumped it on my bed and rolled around on the change. It would have been nice to have the $1,800 in one dollar bills like back in the day but someone has a little bit of a gambling problem; and those cashiers at the casino can turn 800 $1's into 8 $100's in under ten minutes – I've timed them. Dollars don't get stuck in your ass crack like dimes do either. I've dropped more dimes in the shower than Jason Kidd has in his career. Well, that's an exaggeration, it only happened once, but who else can say that? I was quite surprised to hear the ting ting ting of the coin bouncing towards the shower drain. But hey, at least it proves that I wash my ass crack.

When I first heard the news of the pregnancy I immediately swore off sex forever. That's right, forever. No woman can play with my penis like I can but a nice warm, moist vagina is nice every now and then; nice enough to not be able to swear it off forever. So I devised a new plan. From now on it's either butt sex or sex with married women who won't have a kid because their husbands will divorce them and leave them penniless. That adds up to a lot more than 17% of my income.

But seriously, can you get pregnant from anal sex? I know as much about the female anatomy as I do about the theory called moderation.