Melinda was my first girlfriend, and I got her pregnant the night of our Junior Prom. It was a mistake, but not as bad as the mistake I made when I proposed to her after she told me the news. I was determined to “do the right thing,” but I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Melinda and I had a baby girl 9 months later, we named her Sarah. Melinda and I married as soon as we were 17 and we could wrangle parental consent, we were both seniors in high school at this point, and the period of my life to follow would prove to be the most grueling period of my life.
Melinda and I were both high-performing students, which meant we needed time to go to school, and time to study. We were married now, we felt the need to have our own place, so we needed jobs. On top of all this, we needed to take care of Sarah, and we needed to sleep. We ended up staggering our schedules so that one of us could work/ take care of Sarah/study, while the other slept. It was difficult, especially at first, but with lots of help from our parents we both managed to graduate highschool, and then complete four years of college.
So there we were, the Parson family, Husband, wife, and baby. Melinda and I were both 22, Sarah was 5. Our reward for our hard work was college degrees and a spouse that we barely knew because we had mostly been up when the other person was asleep. We told ourselves that we could put that time behind us, that now that we were out of school, everything would be easier. How wrong we were. Now we were seeking work in the professional world and our schedules were synced up again. We began trying to spend time together as a family, get jobs, and do the normal atomic family thing. This is when I first began to truly appreciate that I hated my wife Melinda.
I went to work as a Bookkeeper for a local utility company, work that I found soul-sucking and demeaning. Melinda found work as an assistant/secretary at a tech firm, which was a waste of her college degree. Neither of us were happy and we both tended to work long hours rather than race home and face each other.
When we were home together, we fought about everything. We fought about money, we fought about time, we fought about who had used the bread last. In the begging, we both wanted to make our relationship work because we thought it would be better for Sarah to have two parents and a “normal” family, but the longer we tried to force our marriage to work, the clearer it became that it was better for Sarah to not grow up in a war zone.
Our marriage was over in all but name when Melinda revealed that she was sleeping with someone from her office. I pushed for a divorce, because that seemed to be as good a reason for a divorce as any, but honestly by then I didn’t really care that Melinda was cheating. I was sick of her, sick of the murderous grind my life had become, and sick of everything but Sarah. Melinda was a rabid bitch who poisoned everything around her and sucked joy from my life for fun, but I suppose I must have been at least as hurtful and spiteful as she was, even if I didn’t remember it that way. It still hurt when she moved out, mostly because she took Sarah.
Eventually our divorce finalized. Melinda pushed for everything. She wanted Sarah, the savings, the wedding presents, alimony, the works. Melinda especially pushed for the house as it had originally been her grandmother’s, but since she had cheated on me and I didn’t push on anything else but the house and Sarah, she didn’t really have much to stand on.
So I kept the house and got partial custody of Sarah, and was even able to avoid alimony. I go to see my daughter 14 weekends a year, plus a week near Christmas, and 6 weeks of Summer. My school debt had mostly been paid by my parents, so when we split and Melinda took her student loans with her, I actually made a little money, even though Melinda took our savings, just because I didn’t have to pay that debt anymore.
There I was; a bachelor again at age 25. I was broke, but I was mostly clear of debt, and I sensed that this was going to be my one chance to change my life, so I took it.
I quit my job, sold almost everything I owned, took out a small business loan, and started my own bookkeeping firm. I have always been good with numbers and I am naturally likeable, so I ended up picking up clients fairly easily. The work came easy and I did pretty well for a small run-from-home business. Most importantly to my mental-health, I became my own boss, set my own hours, and was finally able to let go of a big part of my life’s frustrations. I wasn’t happy exactly, but I was free.
So that is the story of how getting my girlfriend pregnant at 16 ruined my life, and how I got through it. Now let me tell you about how getting my girlfriend pregnant at 16 is the best thing I have ever done.
My daughter’s name is Sara, and she is AWSOME. She is smart, beautiful, playful, and has a heart full of love and joy. It has been my privilege to watch her perabet grow and blossom.
As a baby, people would always tell us that Sarah should be in commercials. She smiled at everybody, barely ever cried. I swear even her diapers were cleaner than other kid’s diapers. She was the best baby in the world.
As a toddler, she was even better. She picked up on “Sssh! Mommy is sleeping!” extremely quickly. Even at this young age, Sarah was inventive. She made toddler games genuinely fun to play, and her sense of wonder at each new thing was infectious. It helped that she was cute as a button. My heart ached every time she curled up with me as I read her those books with the cardboard pages.
As a young child, Sarah witnessed the end of her parent’s marriage. She handled it well, but she had some understandable stress as a result of Melinda and I organizing our separation and dealing with having her parents around less as we worked on finding a schedule that would work. Melinda may be a psychotic, poisonous bitch, but she is a good mother, and both of us worked very hard to be amiable to each other in front of Sarah, and in regards to all things that directly affected her.
Nonetheless, in the early years before things got settled, I missed Sarah terribly when I had to be away from her, and during the times that she stayed with me, I shared her with her best friend Bree.
Melinda and Bree’s mother met at a new parent class. It turned out that not only were our two families practically neighbors, but Sarah and Bree had been born on the same day in different hospitals. This coincidence was enough for Melinda and Bree’s mother to strike up friendship, and it was only natural to set up play-dates between the girls.
From that point on, Sarah and Bree were inseparable. Even when Melinda and Bree’s mother stopped being friends, the girls remained as close as sisters. When Melinda and Sarah moved out Bree was nearly as devastated as I was, and Sarah was probably more upset at not seeing Bree as often as she was upset about seeing me less often. When Sarah visited me, Sarah always pestered me and Bree always pestered her parents until they let her come and visit, and they threw fits when it was time for Bree to leave.
This went on long enough, and the girls were stubborn enough about maintaining their close relationship, that eventually it was just easier for Bree’s parents and me to come to an agreement. When Sarah was at my house, Bree came along as well and they had sleep-overs. Even at that early age, Bree was the kind of girl who got what she wanted.
I suppose most parents would have minded the intrusion into their time with their daughter. I know Bree’s parents were worried that she would outstay her welcome, but I didn’t mind. Bree was a sweet kid when she got what she wanted, and any jealousy I might have felt towards Sarah’s best friend taking up her time was quickly mitigated by the fact that Bree helped stabilize Sarah’s world immensely during the turbulent period of divorce. My daughter’s happiness and stability was worth far more than the inconvenience of watching two little girls instead of one.
To be perfectly honest, it also helped my mood that Sarah loved Bree like a sister, and Bree was close to my house and not Melinda’s. It was just something that gave an extra thrill to going to see Daddy that Mommy couldn’t match. Petty I know, but it worked for me.
And so the years passed. My bookkeeping firm did very well and I was soon able to take on some help and some extra clients. My people all worked from their own homes like I did, so I managed to keep my relatively free lifestyle. I converted the extra third room into a gym after I offered it to Bree and she turned it down. I spent all my non-Sarah time either in the gym working out, or in my Den/Office working on my Client’s books. I didn’t get out much.
Fatherhood became the center of my life. I had my visitations of course, but I made it a point to show up frequently at my Ex-Wife’s house, both because I loved seeing my daughter, and because it annoyed the hell out of Melinda. My work-from-home-as-my-own-boss schedule meant I could make it a point to always be there for Sarah’s science fairs and school plays, and I reveled in doing the Father-Daughter things, like taking her to the park, or out for ice cream, or movies. I even let Melinda come from time to time.
On the personal side of my life… well I watched a lot of pornography. Too much maybe. My lifestyle did not lead to me getting out much. My constant regimen of exercise and my natural frugal eating habits meant that I was not unattractive, but I found it difficult to put myself out there. I did go out with a few girls, but nothing was ever serious. I slept with Melinda a few times too, not that I am proud of that. I had maybe a handful of sexual encounters over 12 years. It was a lonely life, but I was focused on my business and my daughter, and I kept myself busy at my home gym, so I didn’t perabet giriş even notice how unhappy I had become.
2007. Bree and Sarah’s 18th birthday extravaganza. Both Bree and Sarah invited their friends from both of their schools. There was cake, and music, and presents, and even boys. The boys were a bit of a shock to me. Sarah and I were close, and she had confided in me about her crushes on certain boys, but this was the first time I was with her around boys. I immediately felt protective, which is probably understandable given the predicament I had been in at her age, but not acceptable for a father of an 18 year old girl, so I got myself under control.
“Sarah isn’t a little girl anymore,” I told myself. “She is a young woman. She is smart, and wise, and I trust her.” I almost believed myself, but I still kept my eye on the little bastards. I think I did pretty well, and managed to not intimidate too many of them too obviously.
That night marked the beginning of one of our weekends. So we cleaned up the wrapping paper, kicked out the teenagers, and put the rest of the cake in the Fridge. I declared that the dishes could wait until Saturday, and Sarah made a joke about dirty bachelors.
We popped in the video the girls had picked, and the girls curled up on the couch, and I took my chair as usual. This was normally the most peaceful time of our evenings together, but tonight Sarah and Bree were distracted. They kept whispering to each other, and giving each other meaningful looks.
Thinking back, I realized that it had been going on all day, but I only really noticed it when the air of tension intruded on our peaceful time. Still, they obviously did not want my input, so I ignored them and tried to enjoy the rest of the movie.
The argument continued, if that was what it was, all weekend. After Bree went home and Sarah was packing up to go back to her mother’s I asked her about it. “Oh it’s nothing. Just a guy she likes but can’t have.” Sarah answered breezily.
I thought this strange because, to my knowledge, Bree had always been the least boy-crazy girl in Sarah’s friend group. I seem to remember that she had actually been attacked by a boy wielding a knife when she was twelve, and she had been painfully shy around boys since. I could have pressed, but I knew that look on Sarah’s face. It said “None of your business. Drop it.” I am not saying that I couldn’t have overridden her, I am her father after all, but that was the exact same look Melinda got, and I hated seeing it on my daughter’s face. I decided that if it wasn’t important, better to just drop it. I knew both Bree and Sarah knew about the birds and bees, and the importance of condoms, so the less I knew…
The next month, I had two weekends with Bree and Sarah. For the most part they were their normal selves, but there were definite periods of tension between them. I tried to stay out of it, but the periods of hostile silence and scathing looks were difficult to ignore. After those two weekends, the next time we would be together was the long summer visitation. Little did I know that The Girl’s silent argument would soon come to a head and I would not be able to escape it any longer.
Sarah has had a teddy bear since she was a baby. Melinda and I named the bear Teddy Roosevelt as a joke. Of course, as a toddler “Roosevelt” was hard for Sarah to say, so the bear became Teddy Rose-Felt.
Sarah and I had a running game that we played since she started to get old enough to not sleep with her stuffed animals. I would sneak Teddy into her bed occasionally, and Sara would wake up and exclaim “Teddy? How did you get here!?” It’s a little sappy, but it was our tradition, and it never failed to crack us up.
The first night of Long Summer Visit, Bree and Sarah were tense as ever. Whatever was bothering them, it had obviously not gotten resolved, and I decided it was time for President Teddy Rose-Felt to lighten the mood.
That night, I crept into Bree and Sarah’s room. They always slept in the same queen-size bed, with Sara right side up, and Bree flipped around to the foot of the bed. Bree must have left to use the bathroom, because Sarah was there alone. I snuck up to edge of the bed, pulled the covers down a bit, and snuggled Teddy in right at Sarah’s neck. I pulled the covers back up and tucked them in tight.
I was very pleased with myself. I may have even cackled a little bit.
I turned around, and there was Bree.
She was wearing a night tee that left most of her legs uncovered, and with the hall light behind her, I could clearly see her silhouette through the thin material. It struck me like a lightning bolt that this girl, who was like a sister to my daughter, was a young woman now and a beautiful one at that. Something about her standing there resonated with me in a way I was not comfortable with. Her silhouette made her seem naked, and the shadow made her seem anonymous. I was turned on in a fundamental way perabet güvenilir mi by the sight, something I was not at all comfortable with.
Suddenly the game with Teddy Rose-Felt didn’t feel like such a good idea.
I forced my thoughts away, and put on a big, goofy grin. I looked back at Teddy significantly then back to Bree. I then put my finger to my lips in a “SSSHH” gesture.
I made to move around Bree and out the door, but Bree didn’t move, and so I ended up brushing close to her, trying to squeeze past. She halted me with a hand on my forearm, and when I looked at her quizzically, she reached up and kissed me.
Her lips were soft and dry and sweet. She chastely kept her lips closed, but she pressed her body against mine. Her hands rubbed up my chest, around my pecs, and down my back, drawing me in tighter. I was acutely aware of my rock hard erection pressed into her stomach.
With her arms up, her night shirt had ridden higher. My hands were on her hips, with my finger tips just below the hem of the shirt, brushing the bare skin of her legs. I felt my blood coursing in my veins, and my head rang with shock, not really thinking, I started to return the kiss, but I caught myself in time and I struggled to keep it chaste.
I was bombarded by emotions and impulses. I felt like my head was ringing, and I struggled to be rational. This was totally unexpected. I am not sure how long I stood there in shock, but it seems like one moment she was there, and the next she was curled up below her blanket next to my daughter.
“Goodnight” she whispered.
I found myself back in my room. I could still taste her on my lips. My finger tips still burned with the warmth of her thighs. I could still feel her firm body, pressed against me.
I shook my head. I had to get thoughts of her like this out of my head. She was literally young enough to be my daughter, and I was expected to be taking care of her. Not kissing her… or anything else.
I got undressed and crawled into bed. Despite being June, my bed seemed much colder than normal.
The next morning, I woke up and told myself that it had all been a dream. I groaned, pulled on my robe and approached the kitchen with a certain amount of trepidation.
When I walked in, my daughter was glaring at her friend, who was, thankfully, wearing pajama pants. Bree, in contrast to Sarah’s foul demeanor, seemed her chipper old self. She stood at the stove listening to the iPod she had gotten for her birthday, swaying in time to the music. The pajama pants and thin night tee she was wearing combined with the way she was moving and made her ass an outstanding sight.
I had to stop thinking about her like this.
Sarah was scowling at me now, so I gave her my best “What did I do?” face. She muttered something about checking for the paper and left the kitchen.
Bree turned her head and caught me peeking at her ass. I realized that my gaze had swiveled back and was staring at it again. Her green eyes glittered knowingly, and her soft lips quirked up at one corner in a grin that made me wish she would kiss me again, or if last night had been real and not a dream.
I had to stop thinking about her this way.
“Eggs?” she offered, completely innocent. If I ignored her eyes, I could convince myself that it had all been a dream. It had to have been a dream. Of course when I ignored her eyes, my gaze was drawn to the way her thin night tee was drawn tight across her breasts, or the way it was pulled down on one side, showing her long, slender neck and a smooth slope of her shoulder, or the way she had the cutest butt I had seen in a long time.
“No thanks, I’m just going to have cereal.” I had to stop thinking about her this way. I hadn’t thought of her this way before, had I? No. It was just a dream.
I got my cereal and sat down at the table. Bree finished scrambling her eggs and dished them up, then sat down kitty-corner from me. I was concentrating on my cereal and thinking about how her eggs smelled more appealing than my cereal when her foot shattered my concentration.
Her toes started at my heel and drifted up, lightly stroking my calf in a very intimate way. I gaped at her, shocked, but she seemed to be ignoring me. Apparently it hadn’t been a dream. I determined right there that this had to stop, it was not appropriate. I actually opened my mouth to say so, when Sarah walked back in with the paper.
I went back to my cereal. I couldn’t embarrass Bree, could I? I tried to subtly shift my leg, but I couldn’t move it far enough away without being obvious. Bree’s toes were well up my leg now, almost to my knee.
“Hey Dad, they have an article in the paper about the Zoo. Apparently one of the elephants just gave birth. Can we go see?” Sarah was looking at the paper, not at her friend.
“Um…” I managed while Bree’s toes managed to flip my robe back further. I realized that I had not actually eaten any of my cereal.
“Yea Mr. P! Can we go see the baby?” Bree was innocence itself, even as her toes softly massaged my thigh beneath the table.
“Yes! Yes. Let me just… I will just go get changed.” I stood up and tried to casually leave the kitchen without revealing my aroused state.