“What you won’t do, another woman will.” Those are words I’ve heard from women in my family long before I was old enough to know what they meant. On the surface, the advice makes sense. Who doesn’t want to keep their man happy? Who doesn’t want to do whatever it takes to make their relationship work?
Those words were always in the back of my mind as I dated. When my high school boyfriend told asked me to skip school, I didn’t. Then I found out that another girl with eyes for my man did just that. I cut school with him for a month straight. In college, where the ratio of women to men was obscene— if you had a man, you literally had to fight to keep him—-I caught the eye of our football team’s quarterback and I was willing to draw blood to hold on. After graduation we decided to move in together, but things started to change somewhere around year two of our post-college bliss. He became a little distant and I wasn't sure why. I cut back on time with friends, cooked more meals, spiced things up in the bedroom, anything I could to put the love back in our relationship. I was totally out of ideas when a few months before his birthday he asked a question that would change my life forever.
He wanted a threesome.
Unlike most men, he didn't want to bring another woman into the bedroom. Instead, he wanted to see me have sex with another man. I found the request strange, to say the least. When I told my best friend, red flags went up for her immediately: “He’s trying to get rid of you. He will slut you out to this man and then leave you and your reputation in the trash. Don’t do it!” But I didn’t believe her, this man had loved me since college, he would never hurt me like that. And besides, “What you won’t do, another woman will,” right?
The weekend of his 25th birthday, we headed out of town and had the time of our lives. Soon the time came for us to fulfill his fantasy, all we needed was a man. As I waited at the bar like bait, an extremely handsome gentleman approached me and after an hour of heavy flirting he asked me up to his room. I asked him up to mine instead, but only if my boyfriend could join. I played my boyfriend’s plans off as my own and lured the beautiful stranger in. The night was intoxicating. What started off as my boyfriend’s fantasy soon became my own and I lived and loved each minute of their simultaneous pleasures. When it was over, the stranger left and my boyfriend and I checked out of the hotel and headed home.
All was well for a few weeks after we returned…until I missed my period. Since we used condoms during our little rendezvous, I naturally assumed that positive pregnancy test I was staring at was the result of an unprotected tryst with my beau after we returned.
I was wrong.
The doctor revealed my conception date and I was horrified. I conceived the weekend we went away and since I had sex with two men, I had no clue who the father was. Was it my boyfriend or some man whose name I didn’t even know? After calling me every name in the book, accusing me of having sex with the hotel stranger on the side and slandering me to everyone we knew, including my family, my now ex-boyfriend packed his bags and moved out. I hid in shame for eight months before I gave birth to a healthy baby girl with my mom and BFF at my side. I prayed hard for the father of my daughter to be my ex, but the joke was on me when the results confirmed that a nameless figure was the father of my child.
Initially I wallowed in self-pity and wondered how I could be so dumb. Then I stared at her little face wondering how I will explain who her daddy is? How I will make the reality of never knowing him okay with her? For now I just focus on loving her. Her conception might not have been ideal, but her birth is most certainly a blessing. I just hope one day when she gets older she can forgive me and listen when I tell her that it’s okay to not do what the other woman will. Because any man who doesn’t think what you have to offer isn’t enough, isn’t worthy of you anyway. Now that’s advice worth giving.
~As told to Danielle Pointdujour