Little known fact about me:
Every single month, in the week before my period arrives, I begin to become convinced that I am somehow pregnant and my period shant be coming. Every. Single. Month. I don't know why; there is no possible way I could be pregnant, as I haven't had sex in eight months. But this doesn't matter. Because this happened in high school too, long, long before I was deflowered. I don't know what it is, but ever since I was about fifteen, I've been afraid that it was my destiny to give birth to the second coming of Christ . . . and I'm not Christian.
Oddly enough, this never happened when I was with David. I mean, obviously, because we were having sex, so there would be no reason to think it was divine intervention. But I didn't even get paranoid that I was pregnant by natural forces. I only get paranoid when I'm not sexing it up.
I'm serious, too. This is funny, yes, but I'm not joking. So every month, I'm like, "Well, here we go. Is this gonna be it? Is this gonna be the month that I have to either make up a story about having a one-night stand with some guy or have every one think I'm crazy when I insist that I haven't had sex with anyone?"
Just in case anyone's interested, this wasn't that month.