12 years
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Thirteen months ago I met a famous man. In the freaking grocery store of all places. Long story short, we began an affair. His intentions were pretty clear from the start, and I thought, why not? I’d just gotten out of a bad relationship and had started rebuilding my confidence, and I thought why not have a little fun. It felt safe to me because I knew it would never be anything serious.
But that’s not how it turned out. He was different than I thought he would be. Kind, respectful, passionate. I did exactly what I hadn’t planned to do. I fell in love with him. I didn’t tell him of course, because I was pretty sure it wasn’t mutual. How could it be? He was him, and I was a nobody. I stayed involved with him for a while, but it got harder and harder the more I fell in love with him, and I knew I needed to leave. So two months ago I kissed him goodbye one morning and never came back. I’m sure he didn’t see it coming. That was seven weeks ago. I miss him every f****** day. But that isn’t the hardest part. I didn’t know it when I walked out that day, but I’m pregnant. I’m terrified and so so lost.

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