(My boyfriend and I have been together for a little over two years. Six months ago I was diagnosed with PCOS, which is an endocrine/reproductive disorder where I don’t ovulate regularly and my body doesn’t regulate hormones properly. It also means that I’m almost guaranteed to have difficulty conceiving and carrying a child to term. Because of this and all of the conversations we’ve had to have, he knows more than he ever wanted to about female reproduction. Note: He also gets a little loopy when he’s tired.)
Boyfriend: *laying with his head on my stomach* “I’m pregnant.”
Me: “…what?”
Boyfriend: “Yep! Are you pregnant, too?”
Me: “I should hope not.”
Boyfriend: “Why aren’t you pregnant?”
Me: “Well, one you have to have sex to become pregnant. That’s kind of how it works.”
Boyfriend: “What about Mary?”
Me: “I haven’t had any angels visiting me telling me that I’m carrying God’s child, so again, sex is necessary. Two, I’m on birth control. And three, even if I wasn’t you know that’s not very likely.”
Boyfriend: “Oh. Well, I’ll carry our children!”
Me: “Who’s the father?”
Boyfriend: “I am!”
Me: “Then who is the other parent?”
Boyfriend: “An alien. An alien impregnated me. But it’s not too fun being pregnant, so I think I’ll transfer the pregnancy to you. You’ve always wanted kids, right? Now you’ll get to experience pregnancy!”
(He sits up and starts waggling his fingers towards me with a look of concentration on his face.)
Boyfriend: “There! Now you’re pregnant.”
(He pats then kisses my stomach.)
Boyfriend: “I love our little alien baby…”
Me: “…”
