The typical norm for college students is to party on Friday and Saturday nights, and that is denoted by the high-tempo raucous that was rampaging throughout the Main Line vicinity from those rowdy Villanova students. And one year ago, I would’ve been a part of the scenes and lifestyles that defined the university culture of house parties, fraternities, bar-hopping, and the accompanying stupid drama and BS. Too soon, Zane Alexander. That was then and this is now.

Instead of pre-gaming with my friends before going out to Kelly’s Taproom (with fingers crossed that our fake IDs would work) for our usual festivities of heavy drinking and poor decision-making (for example) one of my buddies got arrested last week for urinating in front of a cop), I was at K-Mart off of West Lancaster Ave. I was shopping for a pair of baby shoes for the child that the mother of my child and I were expecting. How was I feeling? I wish I could say I was just dandy, but the sudden indicators of my heart racing and profuse sweating said so otherwise. And the anxiety that exuded from my state of mind did not help out either. I’m not ready to have a child, I told myself. There’s so many things I wanted to do -- travel, play professional basketball, get my personal training certifications, so on and so forth. And now I find my dreams vanishing away from what was supposed to be a meaningless hookup. I wish I would have been more careful. I’m just not ready to enter the true essence of parenthood, let alone adulthood.

It’s only baby shoes, I thought, just breathe. It was only baby shoes that I was out shopping for, but the occasion itself was minute compared to the magnitude of circumstances I found myself in. I was a nineteen year-old college dropout who was way in over his head. No job, no means to support the mother of my child, thrown out of the house by my parents, and sleeping on the couch at my friend’s apartment. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. While I paced up and down the aisles of K-Mart’s shoe department, an unbearable sensation of pain coursed through my body. I felt my left arm tingle, and my head began to spin. In just a matter of seconds, the surrounding patrons rushed to me while I laid on the cold hard floor in absolute distress.

“Call 9-1-1”, one of them bellowed. “I think he’s having a heart-attack!”

The last thing I remembered before passing out was a pair of sky blue baby shoes I was planning to buy and a present to my ex-girlfriend and her parents in hope of regaining their once unwavering support. Is this how it will end? Not only do I throw my life away at the age of nineteen, but I will die as a failure and disappointment to all the people I cared about. I wish I had the chance to make everything right, or at least do things differently. It can’t end like this. It shouldn’t. Alas, it was.As I found myself losing consciousness, everything around me gradually whitened until I was enveloped in a space of absolute emptiness.

***

Suddenly, I woke up with nothing on me but a pair of my Fruit of the Loom boxers and I was drenched in an avalanche of sweat, all while taking heavy breaths and wondering what just took place. What happened last night? I quickly put my hand on my heart. Nothing feels out of the ordinary. I then wiggled my arms and legs. Humph. No pain. I took a moment to process what had just taken place. Was it just a nightmare? Thank goodness. One could not imagine the relief I felt after waking up from such a horrid dream in the bedroom of my best friend’s house. I proceeded to open the curtains, and was swiftly met by the blinding light radiating from the morning sunshine.

Last night was a cataclysm of pleasure and temptation, and that was epitomized by the grogginess in my eyes as I started to cope with the biggest migraine I had ever experienced. I squeezed my nose to evade the stench of booze that reigned supreme from the pile of empty Captain Morgan bottles and Bud-Light cans.

“What happened last night?” I muttered.

I paused for a brief moment, and then with amusement thought to myself, Oh yeah, a wild party happened at the Haverford Basketball House last night after winning our conference. It…was…LIT. Immediately after reveling in this realization, my stomach became nauseous; it felt as if someone was churning butter with my intestines. The ripe scent of marijuana emanating from the discarded joints only added to the discomfort that raged on. I scurried to the bathroom and vomited into the run-down toilet for several minutes. Once I finished my business, I propped myself up in front of the cracked mirror; my usually lush, smooth black hair was ruffled like a chicken’s feathers and my mouth felt like it was attacked by a tsunami of booze. I eventually came back into the bedroom, clutching my forehead and stomach. Seriously, what happened last night?

Answering that question would be a grueling challenge as I attempted to piece together the events from the night before. Oh God, I thought as my head continued to writhe in pain, never again. I looked down to the floor to see a pathway of clothes leading up to the bed. There lied my Haverford College Basketball jacket with “Zane Alexander #5” stitched next to the logo followed by my Ralph Lauren Polo, jeans, and Vans. When did these get here? I quickly tilted my head, and I was absolutely shocked to see another of pathway of clothes. In front of my eyes were a pair of boot-cut jeans, a crop top, stylish lingerie, and boots.

“OH SHIT!” I exclaimed as I rushed to the bed-side table.

On the table was a used Trojan condom, and words could not begin to describe what I was feeling at that moment. Everything that occurred in my nightmare began to resurface. My heart raced, my stomach churned, and the migraine intensified as my imagination ran wild, fearing the worst. I lifted the covers of the bed in a moment of panic, which resulted in a beautiful bare woman rolling off the plush mattress and hitting her head.

“Ouch,” she moaned in her hung-over state, “What’s your problem, Zane?”

As she brushed away the blonde hair that was covering her face, shock and awe rocked my very core.

“Allison?” I asked bewildered. “From O’Reilly’s Sports Management class?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“Please don’t tell me that we-?”

“We did!”

“Oh God!” I panicked. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m not ready for a relationship, let alone having a kid!”

“Calm down”, Allison interrupted. “I’m on birth control and took Plan B after our little rodeo. You had protection! And don’t worry, I just came out of a seriously relationship and am not ready to commit to anyone just yet. Last night was just a time to party and have some fun. We did just that, and we were careful, so just relax.”

“Oh,” I muttered in a dumbfounded manner. “That’s a relief.”

Allison got dressed, and as she made her away to the door, she amusedly remarked, “By the way - 5 minutes? Not bad for a virgin.”

“Gee, thanks,” I replied sheepishly, “I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Although I blushed from an unusual mixture of embarrassment, giddiness, and accomplishment, the relief I felt after the nightmare and morning debacle was at an all-time high. After all, I am always eager to have a good time, but in no way, shape, or form am I ready to handle the repercussions that go along with it at the age of nineteen. Taking a deep breath, I sat down on the bed and finally felt at ease. However, that ease quickly turned to nausea. There was no baby for me in the immediate future as a college sophomore, but the churning in my stomach and radiating migraine indicated I was in for a long day.