Discretion is advised.
During my first year in Mexico, I met a beautiful young woman named Paola. I dated her for 10 years. Whenever I was in Mexico, she and I were inseparable. I loved Paola and it’s too bad things didn’t go the way I planned. I wanted to eventually bring Paola to the U.S. She had said she wanted to emigrate to America. She hinted that marriage was the fastest way for her to gain citizenship. I think she got the point when I didn’t call for a week.
Paola’s parents hated me. They still hate me. I’ve never admitted this but they had me pegged from the start. They knew I’d never marry their daughter even though Paola was sure I’d eventually change my mind.
Trying to convince Paola’s parents to believe the story I wanted to tell rather than what they knew to be true was difficult. They didn’t want their only child to be treated like a whore. They weren’t happy that I came to town to fuck Paola when I pleased then left her to fuck whoever else I wanted. They didn’t like hearing lies from me. I wouldn’t either. Neither would you. So I don’t blame them for not liking me.
Anyway, at age 33, I loved Paola more than I had ever loved a woman. I visited Mexico as often as I could during the Major League season to see her. That’s why I was horrified during the conversation we had a few years ago.
“Promise me you won’t get mad,” she began.
“Sure, come on. Tell me what’s wrong,” I answered. I knew this was trouble.
“No, you need to promise me,” she asserted.
“What if I don’t?” I asked. “You won’t tell me?”
“That’s right,” she said defiantly.
“Good,” I replied. “If I have to promise to respond a certain way before hearing what you have to say, I know I don’t want to hear it anyway.”
She tried again. “Just promise me.”
“You’ll be the first to complain that I’m a liar,” I responded. “I couldn’t blame you for being upset if I lie.”
“If you want a meaningless promise that I’ll control a reaction that I admittedly have no way of controlling, then fine. You’ll get those useless words. You and I both know you’ll be mad when I break my promise and get mad. And I will get mad because that’s the only reason you’ll asking for such a promise in the first place.”
“Come on, you don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“Not exactly but I know what you won’t say.”
“What won’t I say?”
“That you won the lottery. That you got a promotion. That your parents suddenly like me. That you want a puppy for your birthday. That something good happened to you.”
“You think you know me so well.”
“No, I know people well enough to know they protect against reactions they don’t want when they fear them coming. If something good happened—or even something mundane—you wouldn’t be worried about me getting mad.”
“I just want to have a calm discussion.”
“Since I don’t know the subject, I can’t promise that. However, you know I hate surprises so I’m already fearing the worst. Hell, I’m already mad because you put me in this position.”
Give Paola credit. She was determined to get what she wanted. “Will you promise not to get mad?” she asked one last time.
I tried to explain my position. She didn’t care. I really was mad at that point. I was tired of doing a stupid song-and-dance to get Paola to talk. She was usually so much more mature. I knew it was serious. I wasn’t bullshitting; I don’t know how to explain my thinking any better than I did. I honestly thought at that moment that she just learned she had breast cancer. I promise you I would not have been mad at her for it.
Anyway, it was time to play ball. Give her what she wanted so I could get what I wanted: closure. I replied, “Yes, I promise.”
“OK,” she said. “I’m three months pregnant.”
“Fuck!” I screamed.
“You promised not to get mad!”
“I lied! You knew I lied to get you to fucking tell me what’s going on! I was tired of waiting. Be glad I didn’t get bored and leave five minutes ago.”
“What are we going to do?” Paola asked quietly.
“You need to get an abortion,” I said.
“I won’t hear of it,” she replied in her sexy accent. “You know I’m a Catholic and I’m against abortion.”
“Let me get this straight,” I responded. “You aren’t enough of a staunch Catholic to abstain from kinky premarital sex. All of a sudden, you now want to be a good girl?”
“You are mocking me,” she whined.
“No,” I said defensively. “I’m just not sure how you got yourself pregnant.”
“You were there. Don’t you know?”
“You promised you were on the pill.”
“There’s supposed to be a 99 percent contraception rate with the pill.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Well, you knew I loved bareback sex.”
“As long as we both were disease-free, I wanted to climax inside you as often as I could.”
“I wanted that too.”
“The sensation is much better that way.”
“I agree. I enjoy feeling you unload in me.”
Sometimes, I unloaded on her also. Paola’s skin and hair looked hot after I gave her a facial. However, once she told me she was three months pregnant, I unloaded on her in a different way.
“I want to marry you,” she said.
“I won’t consider it if you have the baby,” I responded.
“Don’t you want to be a family?” she asked.
“I don’t want to be a dad,” I snapped. “I told you that at the beginning. My worst nightmare is to be stuck paying child support.”
“You don’t have to worry,” Paola sighed. “I love you enough to spare you that fate.”
“Great,” I replied. “Then you know what you need to do.”
“Yes, I do,” she yelled as she went in our bedroom.
“Just so you know,” she exclaimed from the doorway. “I didn’t try to trap you. Like you said, the pill is 99 percent effective. Surely you know you’ve fucked me more than 100 times.” With that, she slammed the door shut.
After our fight, we slept in different rooms that night. I stayed on the couch in the living room. I assumed she knew I meant for her to get an abortion. I was wrong.
The next morning, I was calmer. She was right in that I had banged her hundreds of times during our relationship. There’d been weeks when I came in her pussy close to 100 times. Hey, I like pitching in Mazatlan but Mexico can be a dangerous place. Better to stay indoors and fuck my sexy girlfriend rather than take chances at nightclubs. I’m not really a nightclub kind of guy anyway. I’m more of a homebody.
As far as I knew, Paola hadn’t cheated on me. I had Bob Land follow her once in a while and he never saw her do anything with anyone else.
Anyway, I wanted to see if there was some way some compromise could be reached. I didn’t really know how the gap between pregnant and not pregnant could be split but I knew I loved Paola so there had to be a way.
I like the story about a old man who tells a boy about a man in the desert who tries to escape a hungry lion. I’m sure you’ve heard it. Just before he is to be devoured by the lion, the man finds a tree and climbs it. He avoids the lion’s paws and remains safe until the lion gives up and leaves the scene. The boy asks how there can be a tree in the desert. The old man smiles and says because there had to be one.