Silly Rabbit! Kicks Are for Kids!
I was 18 and still in high school when my girlfriend
told me she was pregnant.
Yes, I had condoms but she didn't like them, so we equally
shared First-Place for the Stupid Awards that fall.
As bleak as things seemed for me at that moment there was
a small light waiting for me at the end of the expectant
tunnel. Until that time I
of the heard
pregnancy", wouldn't even have believed such a thing
existed, but that's what it turned out to be.
This was, of
course, long before the five-minute pregnancy tests we rely
on these days, when actual rabbbits
die in order to be certain that gestation was in production.
All I knew at the time was that I had two really pissed-off
sets of parents and one really anxious girlfriend leaning
on me to do the right thing.
One quickie marriage, four uncomfortable months and one
quickie divorce later I emerged a more enlightened human,
suddenly all too aware of the terrors inherent in the human
reproductive system. As you might imagine, the moment I heard
the word "pregnant"
escape the dewy lips of my teenaged gal-pal my world, even
as it was then, began to fold in on itself like a sand-castle
before a level-five hurricane.
Travel the world? No way, Jose.
Become an artist?
Not with mouths to feed, Charlie.
It shouldn't take an event like this for a man, or a woman,
to take control of their reproductive life, but all I remember
in high school biology were endless filmstrips featuring
frogs and beetles gettin' it on. Not exactly practical advice.
So, yeah, I'm an adherent for real, honest, explicit sex
education and cheap, simple birth control. The world would
be a whole
if a large portion of the population didn't have waste their
entire lives dealing with the mistake of only a passionate