Toxic:Not at all.
Samantha:A moment ago, it sounded like you were pissed…
Toxic:I was upset, but not about the baby.
Samantha:Wow, I didn’t expect you to be so chill. I’ve been a goddamn wreck since I found out.
Toxic:Right before you told me, I had a run-in with a pregnant woman, and I’m wondering if the good lord was already working on me.
Samantha:Oh, about that…it was me. I was the BB hater! I was feeling you out.
My fingers pause over the screen as I think about the back-and-forth banter I had and whether I’m mad about the deception.
But how could I be? She’s a single woman who’s just found out she got knocked up, and she hardly knows the father.
Scratch that. She doesn’t know him. Just his name, occupation, and how good he was in bed, though it wasn’t like he was able to display his finest moves in the tiny six-by-six room.
And she’s not the only one who’s clueless about their co-parent. Outside of Samantha’s good looks and primal urges that arise literally anywhere, I knew nothing about her until she texted me.
Now, I know she’s still hot, rich, and funny. Even when I thought she was Trista and not so hot, I was ready to pound her into the mattress because she was so delightful. Which is a dynamic I don’t want to let go of.
A click into her profile tells me she heads Weston Relations, a PR company.
Toxic:Please tell me my future baby’s momma isn’t a BB-8 hater.
Samantha:Look, we’ve both suffered enormous disappointments as of late. Let’s not ask questions we don’t want to know the answer to.
That settles it.
I’m marrying this woman.
Toxic:We should probably meet up.
Samantha:I can come by your venue tomorrow.
Toxic:I’m not having you drive to see me in your condition.
Samantha:You mean pregnant?
Toxic:I’ll drive out to meet you.
Samantha:I don’t know if that will work for me. I hardly know you.
Toxic:Well, it’s not like you can choose to cut me out of your life.
Samantha:Look, you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do. I CHOSE to tell you about my pregnancy when I didn’t have to. Now, you can either tell me where to meet you, or I’ll put youon BLOCK and you can try to overcome the many barriers I’ll throw in your way when you try to contact me again.
Hell, yeah! No baby momma of mine is going to be a doormat, just as I wouldn’t expect my future wife to be either.
And yes, I’m already imagining her in white.
I look at a map of where we’ll be tomorrow, finding the perfect place to meet over coffee.
I insert the address and hit SEND.
Toxic:Does tomorrow, 1 pm work for you?
Samantha:Yep! See ya soon.
