True confession: I got my married girlfriend pregnant, then abandoned her

O’Neal, 48:

Eleven years ago, I met this woman while on a trip to St Mary to visit my father. I had stopped at a local restaurant to buy some food and she was there with a few friends and her five boys.

I assumed they were hers because they all had her cool, brown complexion and hair texture. I also heard them call her mommy.

I watched her for a while, waiting to see if her man was anywhere nearby, and there wasn’t a man in sight.

I stood there, contemplating whether I should approach her. You see, I have always been attracted to women with a lighter complexion; not just brown, but a few shades away from being Caucasian. And here was my perfect candidate. She had the right shape, a beautiful face, and warm and inviting smile. The woman was attractive.

I had to go over and say something, so I did. I started the conversation by offering her my table as it was bigger than the one she was about to use. She told me thanks and I helped her to move her things there. One of her friends asked me to join them since I had not finished eating. This gave me the opportunity to talk to this beauty.

We all started talking and I found out that they were also from Kingston. She lived uptown and this was another turn-on for me. It may sound petty, but as a youngster living in the ghetto, I had always found girls my age who came from uptown fascinating. I knew that they would never want a guy like me, but I often fantasised about them, and I grew up holding on to that dream. I was always attracted to light skinned women with money who lived the high life.

I also learnt that she was married. But this wasn’t a turn-off for me, as I was also married with two children of my own.

When I walked outside to escort her to her vehicle, I asked her for her number and she complied. I called her that night when I got home — well sort of close to home. I parked a few streets away from my house so I could get a chance to talk freely without my wife popping in and out.

I did this for a few weeks. I was itching to see her again, so we made plans to meet up. At the time I was living in Portmore and didn’t want to meet her there or in Spanish Town because my wife had eyes and ears everywhere. She didn’t want to meet in Kingston, so we met at one of her friends’ houses in Linstead.

That very day we had sex and it was good, not only because she knew how to please me, but because my fantasy had come through. We kept meeting up there and at other places, and it got to the point where we would meet up two, three times a week. And in the midst of us getting physical, we built a friendship.

As time went on, I thought about having a child with this woman. I knew I shouldn’t have entertained the thought based on our marital situation, but I wanted a child with her. I asked her about her menstrual cycle. I knew a few things about this topic because my wife kept track of when she was ovulating.

So I did this same thing with my new lady. I told her I would use the withdrawal method but I didn’t, and she got pregnant the first time I tried.

When she found out she was pregnant she almost lost her mind because she knew her husband would be beyond upset. I told her to tell him it was his, and she said that was not going to work. Her husband was also of a lighter hue, and there was no way she could explain having a dark skinned baby.

I didn’t know what to tell her; nor was I in a position to help her. Abortion was not an option.

As time progressed, her husband found out about it and kicked her out of the house. He left her with nothing — no car, no money, no children.

It was at this point that she asked if she could move in with me and I told her no. She kept asking, so I had to tell her the truth that I was married.

She was livid. She accused me of ruining her life while my life was still good. I stopped talking to her for a while because I just couldn’t handle the drama. But one day she called me crying, saying that she was hungry and had no money and that she wasn’t used to living like this. I told her that my car wasn’t working so I couldn’t drive all the way to Linstead where she was staying. A few minutes later, her friend called me and gave a proper cursing. I felt bad about it and called my soon-to-be baby mother and asked her to meet me at a plaza and gave her money.

I could see how stressed out she was. She had even lost weight. She told me that she missed her sons and that her husband didn’t want her to see them. She felt alone and ashamed because her family had turned their backs on her.

I really didn’t want to hear all this. I felt bad for bringing her to this all-time low, but what was I to do at this point? I couldn’t turn back the hands of time. In fact, I wish I could move time faster so I could get away from the situation.

I hadn’t told anyone about her being pregnant as I saw no need to. So when the paperwork was finalised for my family to migrate, I did so quietly.

She had no idea that I had plans to leave the country and the irony is that a few hours before I boarded my flight, she gave birth to a baby girl. I only spoke with her on the phone, and that was the last time I spoke with her.

Now, a decade later, my heart is pain over what I did. I have been back to Jamaica but I can’t find her. I’ve visited the house in Linstead but it has been sold. I have no way to contact her or her friend. I was dumb, I did things off a childhood dream that in the end messed up someone else’s life. I regret doing what I did.