Dear Jennifer (not her real name),
I don’t often meet women at bars, let alone women that go home with me, but you and I hit it off. I offered to buy you a drink, you said you didn’t drink (clue #1), then I asked if you wanted to dance, you said the dance floor was too crowded (clue #2). We chatted it up for a couple hours then I asked you needed a ride home. All was going well, we were making out and taking off our clothes, when you stopped me to tell me something important. You we’re pregnant. Not showing yet, but still pregnant. Srsly sorry, but something about hooking up with a pregnant women who is still bar hopping, is clearly alienated from the baby-daddy, and totally cool with me “not using a condom because the factory is already in use” did not work for me. Sorry about the awkward wait for the cab to show up, and sorry that I didn’t have any cash to help you get home.