The Scare: Stellar Magazine
Title: The Scare
Author: Jonathan McCrea
Date: Feb 16th 2010
Publication: Stellar
I was in the gym stark-bollock naked when a conversation with Totally Tony, a big Offaly lad I know from football, went in an unusual direction. He was in the process of vigorously sawing himself through the groin with a towel like a lumberjack when he just comes out with: “Here …Kate’s only feckin’ late.” It took me a second to realise his meaning: Kate is Tony’s on-off girlfriend of 8 months. Something about his tone gave me the feeling this young man was not quite warm with the glow of an expectant father. “Oh” was all I could think of to say at first, and then after a pause, “How late?”
Very late, it would seem. “Totally late.” Tony used the word totally whenever possible, hence the nickname. My life is over. I’d have to sell the car, get a better job, spend weekends with family instead of on the piss. The person you knew as Tony could be dead.” I ignored him, Tony had a weakness for theatrics. “Why haven’t you done a test yet?” I asked, as we left the gym. “We are – tonight”. “Jesus”, I said, “Fancy a bit of courage?” He didn’t have to be asked twice; it was like waving a Kinder Surprise in front of a pair of Aryan children.
Interesting fact: men don’t like to talk about their sex lives. Fantasy banter about actresses and hot younger sisters: yes. Ridiculously implausible stories about wild one-night stands: of course (I have one involving a New Zealand girl and a parrot, but that’s for another day). The most vile acts of sexual deviancy found on the internet would actually be quite a frequent topic for most guys. But for some reason, we get very uncomfortable discussing even the most vague details of a real sexual relationship. So down at the pub, we navigated the topic like two sappers sweeping through a minefield. The conversation went something like this:
Jonathan: So you obviously think she could be…
Tony: Yeah, totally
Jonathan: And were you not, you know…
Tony: Well we were, most of the time, but you know yerself, after a few…
Jonathan: Right, yeah, and was she not on the..
Tony: She was yeah totally, sort of…
Jonathan: I know what you mean.
Truth was, I hadn’t a clue what he meant. Far be it from me to judge, but Tony’s casual attitude to contraceptives was alien to me. I’m not a gambler. I had a scare that lasted 3 weeks when I was 19 and I will never forget it.
It was long before the days of home-testing kits and at a time when the thought of being a teenage dad scared the bejaysus out of me. We’d actually been very careful, but because we were young, our imaginations ended up running wild. In my head, the most unlikely impregnation scenarios started to gain credibility with every day that passed: toilet seat, wet patch, osmosis.
Every time the telephone rang my heart was in my mouth. I imagined telling my parents. I imagined not telling my parents. By the last week I was certain I was going to be a father. I started to question my understanding of the reproductive process. I even found myself lurking around the health section of Easons, studying pictures of the cervix that didn’t quite relate to my limited real-world experience. I’m pretty sure the girl with the pricing gun thought I was some sort of pervert.
Finally, the news came: a false alarm. I think I must have gained an inch in height with the relief. We couldn’t have been happier but we broke up soon afterwards: every time we kissed I started thinking of soiled nappies and breast pumps. As a result, I’ve lived my adult years with a deep-rooted fear of growing up before my time. I’d wear a full body condom if I thought it would dramatically reduce my chances of spawning a mini-me. It probably would, now that I think about it.
I tried to keep Tony upbeat: “You know, it could be the best thing that ever happened to you.” He looked up from his current distraction of ripping a beer mat into tiny pieces. “You could try to sound a bit more convincing.” “Look, it might be nothing, but worst case scenario, you have a baby a few years earlier than you planned. It was gonna happen eventually.” He swilled the last of his beer around in his glass before draining it and slamming it down on the table. It struck me that everything Tony did, he did it with vigour. No wonder Tanya was pregnant. Well, might be pregnant. He offered me his hand and squeezed hard, “Time to face the reaper, nice knowing you”. I wished him luck and he trudged off home to receive his sentence.
Around midnight I got a call from a clearly locked Tony. “I’m off the hook boy, me and Tanya are in Slattery’s celebrating if you want to drop down?” “I’ll pass thanks, but don’t get carried away tonight, you might forget to… you know…again…” I said, trailing off. “Totally” said Tony as he hung up the phone.