how nice. i had one of those blood test, the first big blood test of the pregnancy where they test if you're had chickenbox, rubella and a few other rather significant conditions.
i am pleased to say that i have no HIV or syphilis. Not that I have been particularly active during a sexual revolution (erhhh... which one you may wonder... me too). But you know, that little morbid voice inside your head, the same one that tells you the engine's sounding funny just as you're boarding your plane on a dream honeymoon... the same voice that tells you you'll just ain't going to get that job or that if statistically 1 in 34597340598 people die of no apparent reason so you're going to be that special 34597340598-th.... the same voice was teasing with me "blimey, what if i have something nasty", pages of the catalogue of men shuffles past my eyes, i'm thinking "c'mon, it's ridiculous, i've been so responsible... oh god, have I?"....
it's all media's fault! stupid cosmopolitan which i read 10 years ago and there was an article that this lonely woman found a love of her life, they breathed the same air, they dreamed the same dreams. she was bathing in happiness, he was bathing in with her and their naked bodies danced to the symphony of the Opus called the happy ever after. as the crescendo reached its peak and the music subsided, she became pregnant. rose petals circled around her world to the sound of a light-fingered waltz and she was a woman Fulfilled.
the first scan revealed a healthy bouncy heart thumping away on the screen. he squeezed her hand, she shed a tear. their sense of being special, the chosen ones was almost arrogant.
the blood test followed and she recalled her time off school with chickenpox and sighed in relieved.
when she was flicking through a baby names book, her doctor called. Asked her to come in to his office. pleasantries were hard to notice as she gently sat on his chair. "Ann, I'm afraid to tell you, you've got AIDS"...
a one night stand 10 years earlier tippled the scale of her desination and a great trashy article was born.
equal doses of superficial "streetwiseness" and gloominess were the trademark of my 20ties. As i rocked my chair to the sound of pink floyd and devoured cosmopolitan's lessons of life, i knew i'd never forget that article about Ann, David and Tariq, one night stand man (quite non-politically correct choice of name if i may add)...
anyway, i have NOT got HIV.
i have not been a naughty girl, i have not played with fire, i am so so perfect. the statistics worked the magic... oh the contrary me.
hmmmm... this pregnancy business is quite a serious thing, init...?