I faked my own pregnancy for a month.

It was the craziest thing I’ve ever done and the only time I ever got my ex to make a move in the relationship. He was a widower and was becoming more idle and secretive, the two things that drove me away from him. This was part of my attempt to save the relationship, and I regret it so much.<br><br>Long story short he proposed to me out of the blue, told me we should start a life together, but when I began to raise questions about our future and how we were going to get there, he became more and more evasive. I kind of let it all go and only pushed for what he volunteered to talk about, he kind of let it all go and when he finally relented to my interests, it was always more idle talk. I tried to break up with him twice, but I let him talk me into staying. Everything was so superficial, and I knew our relationship was dying.<br><br>I was questioning everything, and so, he just kept moving their things into my home. I would find his wife’s lotion in the bathroom, or her pictures next to ours. I only opened up about what worried me about it all to my best friend, and to an anonymous person on the internet that I met and never talked to again.<br><br>When I finally mustered up the courage to turn down the ring he offered me, he started to avoid me. He always busied himself on the computer and only showed up for meals at night in the dining room. I tried to get him to open up, but he just wouldn’t say anything. I felt like a ghost in my own home.<br><br>I was at a loss and knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I decided to pack my things and ultimately make a move to leave the relationship, but while I was packing I caught my period on one of our white sheets. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I didn’t want to do the right thing. I didn’t want to pack up and leave my home for my ex. I never thought anything would come of it, nor was I out to hurt him, but in that moment I knew what I was going to do.<br><br>I went out and bought a fake belly and some coffee. I spent the rest of the night thinking about what I needed to do to let him know how I feel, but most importantly to get him to notice me again in the way that I missed. I tossed the coffee in the coffee maker and the night cap in my desk drawer, ready to be used as needed. I never thought anything would come of it, I knew he kind of hated all the coffee I made because I always made more than I drank in the morning. I also knew he knew I was packing up my things, so I wasn’t convinced he’d even be there when coffee was ready for him.<br><br>When the coffee was ready, I knew what I was doing. I kind of let it sit there and slowly buttered him up. First were his eyes. I knew they needed attention more than anything, so I made him a small coffee, and in the grounds I slipped something I hadn’t done in weeks: I slipped in a kiss. Hand in hand with a cup of coffee for him in bed, he never even stopped staring at me, never once. Eyes kind of dilated, a little half smile. He seemed to completely forget I was trying to end the relationship.<br><br>What happened after that is a blur, but nothing mattered at that point. I knew what I had done, and what I had received. I knew I had him undivided, and all I needed to do was relight the spark. I took to a routine of kind of veiling veiling acts of kind, all while providing only half-truths about what I was planning on doing with my life from there.<br><br>Oddly enough, he slowly opened up to me about more serious things, even things I never thought I’d be able to get out of him. He eventually stopped only laying eyes on me while he was relishing something and stopped noticing the absence of all his late wife’s clothes. It was a switch. I couldn’t help but feel like I had made our relationship undeniably one-sided, and for the first time, while sitting alone in my home, I began to care a little less for myself and a little more for my ex.<br><br>End of story, I came clean with him. It was an explosive argument, only opened up for a day. He disappeared for a while, but days turned into weeks and I didn’t hear from him. It was an accident, but it came at the right time. I didn’t know it then, but I would have to receive the veils of kindness he began to veer off of slowly. The last time I heard from him, he sent a message to my email saying I was never a step or leap forward in his life, but rather nothing more than idle talk about the two of us. I knew that. I was best man at his wedding at 18, he was my best friend for years before then, and he was my best interests from that day forward. I understood that, and knew that. But, in the message was the last picture he ever took of me. It was a picture of me in my pajamas. It was at night, kind of dark out, the blinds a little closed, taken with a flash. It were his idle busying, and it may still be. But, in the reflection of the night, I saw the two of us together. Exactly like we were while we were together. Exactly like he left us. Exactly like he never really let go of.<br><br>I’m sure it’s not the first nor the last faux pregnancy, but faking interests or idle busying veiling acts of undivided kind is the craziest, most regrettable thing I ever did, and I think I may still be doing.