If the father thing was just down to Professor or the Animator, it’d be a whole different story. But how do I explain Justin?

How, indeed.

I dunno, I guess I’ve been careless. Ha! The understatement of the century.

Some honesty. I think maybe underneath all the excitement I was having, swinging between guys, I wasn’t just shutting down but I was also feeling a little… angry. Angry at Professor for not stepping up to the plate when I asked. Angry at the Animator, for not wanting more from me than sex and casual friendship. Angry at myself, for settling.

Yes, settling. Somehow, having my cake & eating it too feels like I’m settling. How is that possible? I think all the omissions and little white fibs I’ve relied on to keep things from being “awkward” are backfiring on me. Yet, it’s not like I need to “come clean” to anyone — Professor is not an idiot. He knows I’m not an angel, has some idea what I’m up to when I take off on one of my so-called errands.

I tell him just enough, and if he wanted to know all he’d have to do is ask some kinda follow-up question. I wouldn’t lie. But he doesn’t ask, so why go into gory details that he doesn’t need to hear? Why rub it in?

On the other hand, why doesn’t he want to know? Therein lies the root of my resentment, I think. If he cares about me as much as he purports to, then how can he let me run off by myself so often? How can he just smile when I crawl into bed at 2:00 am, welcoming me home with open arms like I’m a prodigal daughter instead of this cuckolding floozie, all cheap heels and someone-else’s-bed head.

Screw him, then. Next time, I’m not tip-toeing around where I’m going or what I’ll be doing. What’s that old song line? Something about choosing not to decide is still making a choice. By his own complacency, Professor has chosen to be in this weird situation with me. I can’t keep shielding the truth, we both need to own up.

Who knows? Maybe we’ll talk and agree that we’re a great couple in many ways but when it comes to sex, I get to have a little on the side. Not sure I’m totally cool with HIM having other girls but so far that hasn’t been an issue, his sex drive is much lower than mine. So perhaps we’ll explore some kinda polyandrous arrangement… with rules and boundaries and respect and honesty, of course.

Maybe that would, indeed, create the ultimate “Friends With Benefits” situation?!

I’m fantasizing, here, but ya never know. Imagine the ideal, and then work back from there, I think.

So I’ve a swell plan for confronting things with Professor. Too bad I didn’t think all this thru a few weeks ago, before I’d started banging Justin. Cute, young, unsuspecting Justin. Oh that poor kid has no idea what he stepped in.

And perhaps he’ll never know. Haven’t made up my mind how much I need to tell him. As it is, he knows pitiful little about me. Just some friendly new tenant at the condominium pool this Summer. I don’t even remember how we crossed the line, really. One of those unseasonably warm Saturdays last month, when they opened the jacuzzi and put out lounge chairs for sunbathing while the ground crew worked on the big pool, fiddling with hoses and motors and running that silly little submarine thing that swims around, sucking up debris.

I dunno why Professor wasn’t with me, but I’d brought a book along, and a little cooler with some water, a few beers. Place was mostly empty, I was bored. Soon found myself watching the guys, and admiring the impact of sunshine & manual labor on shoulders, arms, chests, legs… Words like “golden”  and “strapping” kept coming to mind, especially when I focused on one particularly happy-go-lucky dude who looked like he was working his ass off, but he was smiling & joking away like he was hanging with buds at a frat party.

He noticed me, noticing him. The rest, they say, is history…

Although how & why I allowed myself to get knocked up remains a mystery. Of course I am fully aware I failed to start up the last month of birth control pills, and pregnancy is of course an obvious consequence. But I didn’t MEAN to skip my pills… but my old pharmacy is in another town, and I kept thinking I’d get around to moving the prescription, but then I kept putting that off…

And after I realized what was happening, I got lazy about using condoms with the Animator, who knows why?

Bah… maybe I do. I think I’m courting chaos. I was taking foolish chances cause I wanted to shake up my world, to force new directions the way gardeners trick plants to flower way before the weather is warm enough. Professor and the Animator will dither along forever… I guess something in me needed to take charge and push the need for some action, any action. Even being dumped by both of them would be preferable, I think, cause at least then I’d have a clean slate to work from.

I never intended to bring Justin into this, but we were unprepared when we first started getting physical, and it seemed pointless to go thru the effort of finding/obtaining/using a rubber when I was taking such chances with the Animator already.

And now, here I am. Good grief.

Betcha thought I forgot about this journal, didn’t you? And I almost did, truthfully. Things were going so well, I almost felt embarrassed to keep blathering on about how awesome my life was.

Operative word: was.

Not to be dramatic, but lately things have exploded (imploded?) so thoroughly that I’m starting to feel like the overwrought heroine in a bad Victorian novel — clutching bosom, heaving heart, and all.

Really, it’s not all that bad. Still living with Professor, still banging The Animator. Only, now instead of swinging about in the thoes of an exciting “love triangle,” I feel like I’m just biding my time till the sky comes crashing down.

I’m pregnant. The father? Good question.

It gets worse: neither man in my life gives a shit about me. Which doubtless comes as no surprise to anyone who dares ask the obvious question, “When is a guy not jealous when his sexual partner is seeing other men?”

Uhhhhh… I’d like to buzz in now (better late than never): when he doesn’t care.

DING DING DING

There I was, having my cake and eating it too — and eating it and eating it and eating it. Gorging myself, barely even tasting. Now here I am: alone & fat on my own indulgences.

That metaphor sucks, lemme put it another way. I was getting such a high bouncing between guys, I failed to focus and assumed I was the one playing when it seems I have actually been getting played.

Damn, that’s more explanatory but horribly cliche… and a little exaggerated. But it’s how I *feel* so there ya have it.

I shouldn’t be so surprised. I always assumed The Animator had other chicks, he definitely keeps some kind of a “rotation” that I can’t quite pin down but I’ve picked up patterns and can always tell when it’s about time for him to surface. Of course, at first we fucked quite constantly but that peetered out after a few weeks. Rather conveniently, too, so I could turn my attention to Professor. Sexual attention, that is.

I’ve been a machine! So weird… this “friends-with-benefits” thing amped up my drive so much my own mother pulled me aside and whispered, “You’re talking like a man!” after catching some of my weekend wrap-up with my sisters.

I guess I was. Maybe my testosterone’s outta whack. Maybe I have an ovarian cyst, pituitary tumors, or an adrenal gland dysfunction (thank you, WebMD!).

Or maybe I’ve been so hopped up on sex to distract myself from the raw truth that I can’t handle emotions with more than one guy — and since I can’t choose between guys, I just shut off my emotions. I stopped seeing Professor and the Animator as friends and instead reduced them to body parts and orgasmic experiences.

Which, at the time = HOT!

But life has a funny way of squeezing into even the most carefully constructed fantasies. I see now the key to “friends with benefits” isn’t the “benefits” part at all, but that part at the front, the “friends” bit.

I could use a friend now, oh boy. Someone to help me sort out this mess inside me, cause I fear my current state is due not just to carelessness but also some deep-seated need to take all these feelings inside me and bring them to life, to make something real from all my hiding & pretending.