Let’s say that someone (for the sake of argument, me) had been engaging in sex with a set of identical male twins. And let’s say I suddenly found myself quite unexpectedly pregnant. If I decided to have the baby, would there be any way to tell which of the twins was the father?
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Nancy’s company–believe it or not–has handled cases exactly like the one you’ve described, TL. Just how common is it for fun-loving sluts to get knocked up while they’re sleeping with identical male twins? “It happens,” said Nancy. “I wouldn’t say this sort of thing happens on a daily basis, but we know of other cases like it.” If there’s no way of determining which twin is the father, how do courts decide who has to, say, pay child support? “Some courts have ordered both of the twins to split child support,” said Nancy, “and in others, paternity was proved when one of the twins demonstrated that he couldn’t be the father for some other reason, such as being out of the country at the time of conception.”
Finally, while I had Nancy on the phone, I had to ask if the Analytical Genetic Testing Center was responsible for any of those enormous “Who’s the Daddy?” billboards you see in poorer neighborhoods. “No, those are not ours,” Nancy said. “A company out of Texas is responsible for most of those billboards. We think they’re in poor taste.”
–Flashy Snatch
I dated a Mr. Perfect during my sophomore year in college. He was tall, handsome, sensitive, artistic, and sincere and I spent about two months being dazzled by how tall, handsome, sensitive, artistic, and sincere this guy was. Then I realized that we never had a conversation that wasn’t about him. We spent hours dissecting his past relationships, his mother, his roommates, his hair, his career aspirations. We never talked for more than five minutes about the weather, politics, culture, or my life. I’m not sure this guy ever knew my last name. Like GLG, my Mr. Perfect also refused to have sex, claiming that he wanted to make sure it was “really special” when it did happen, but he was willing to spend hours making out, which left me feeling incredibly frustrated all the goddamn time.
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