✶ Q&A: how to fumble a planned pregnancy & call it a trap ✶

the “she trapped me” saga—
fact-checked by the girl
he begged to marry,
got pregnant on purpose,
obsessively stalks daily,
and yet somehow still got blocked.
for legal, literary, and psychological purposes.

…

Q: did you trap him with a baby?
a: babe.
i was actively vetting sperm banks.
like, institutionally.
i advertised the position of baby daddy with a full exit clause.
(i am not kidding; dating bio explicit)
he applied.
multiple times.
this wasn’t entrapment.
this was an audition.
i blocked him.
ping. ping. ping.
ignored for months.
starts emailing.
”what dude?”
”have my baby?”
🥹❤️

Q: but didn’t you get married just because of the baby?
a: that’s adorable.
i told him to go away.
but he literally proposed with a paper ring.
he sat and made.
i still have it.
because at one point—
i think he thought, for one second
maybe i can be…not a piece of shit.
then followed up with his grandmother’s vintage heirloom.
(10/10. stunning.)

he begged to marry me.
i said “eh.”
he said “please?”
i said “sure i guess—for the kid.”
we eloped.
i liked that part.
i almost thought he loved me.
but honestly?
he was already texting some bullshit.
pulling some bullshit.
so yeah.
the baby didn’t trap him.
his own lies did.

Q: so...he wanted to leave you?
a: not once.
not ever.
not until the very end when he realized
i wasn’t gonna bankroll a private condo
so he could beat my ass
and traumatize our toddler in peace.
i moved us back into enemy territory.
and when he said, “maybe i should go,”
i said, “bet. you mean it?”
he didn’t.
but i did.
and that’s when he started pinging.
phone. text. email.
blocked.
ping. ping. ping. ping. ping.
until i filed that order.
he broke it.
to beg for me back.

Q: why doesn’t he talk to his kid then?
a: depends who you ask.

he was given options.
literal wide open call zones—dates. times.
passed on all of them.

only hit me up for pills.

was handed a checklist.
easy access if you give a single shit—
simple. short.
he never opened it.

i made contact with me a crime.
not the toddler.
but narcissism loves a loophole.

he told himself he was the victim.
and believed it so hard
he forgot she existed.

shit part?
she won’t forget.
kids are funny like that.

Q: but did you hit him first?
a. 🫠 babe.
i was pregnant. like visibly.
throwing up 30x a day.
waddling.
couldn’t even roll over without a full strategy.

he?
combat vet.
special ops.
6 feet.
trained to kill with his pinky.

but sure.
he couldn’t take two steps back from a 150lb woman in socks
crying over my feelings and prenatal vitamins?

make it make sense.

**btw—
y’all know
scratches
are how they ID murderers
who tried the wrong bitch,
right?

but yeah.
go off,
csi: incel edition.

Q: were you guys even in love?
a: define love.
maybe. in another universe—
we were best friends
before the narcissism metastasized.
before the ptsd turned into violence and deflection.
before love became a hostage negotiation.

but real talk?
if love is asking
to get you pregnant
opt-in to ball&chain
to you forever?
then yes.

if love is someone
destroying your peace
once you stop solving their problems?
then also yes.
we were in love.
his kind.
not mine.

Q: is it true you still talk to his mom?
a: absolutely.
in another world we did yoga on sundays
and went shopping.
and she taught me to cook.
in this world:
we text about cute outfits
about baby steps.
about how she should probably
slap her son.
i still love her.
i told her i’ll never cut her out—
and unlike her son,
i keep my promises.
she can come to christmas.
he cannot.

Q: why are you saying this now?
a: because someone has to tell the truth.
and because you (hi, sweetie!)
probably got the sparknotes.
some sad husband rewrite.
the “she trapped me / she’s crazy” edit.
narrated by a dude
who begged for the role.
and you’re dying to believe.

but you missed the real plot:
he had exactly what he asked for—
a baby. a marriage. a shot.
he fumbled all three.

because it was never about love.
it was about power.
access to stable resources.
and when that was gone,
when i told him to get it himself?
he ghosted his own kid.

Q: but do you think i’m different? do you think he loves me?
a: babe. lol.
if he’s with you…now?
that means you were desperate—
this is his flop era.

he’s obsessed with his own reflection.
and girl,
you absolutely understood the assignment.

pathetic.
clingy.
excessively eager.
low threat.
low standards.
low ab count.
but highly available.

he only chases women
he thinks are better than him.
you said yes?
in this economy?
girl, you were the absolute last option.
not picked.
proxied.
when no one else with options
would touch a broke red flag
with a toddler he ghosted
and a wife he legally can't text.

but hey—
maybe he’ll change for you.

Q: why didn’t it work? ✶
a: because he needs therapy.
intervening. serious. rehabilitation.
that is not a joke.
he didn’t want a partner—
he wanted an audience.
a pretty wife with glazed eyes and a smile
while he fucked around.
someone to clap
when he entered the room,
nod when he lied,
and shrink when he raged.

he called it “love.”
i called it “nah, not for me.”

the minute i stopped clapping?
he folded.

🖤

no closure. just content.