"Yes, I Am Gullible, But This Is Just Cruel."

So most everybody that knows me is aware of how easily I am drawn into stories and also my history of being a self-proclaimed hypochondriac. My fiancee has enjoyed taking advantage of this aspect of our relationship over the seven years we've been together, but she at least holds herself to only a few times a year. However, the last two weeks have been especially hard.

More like Cruel.

Very Cruel.

The first emotional breakdown occurred on April 1st, which also happens to be the stupidest holiday of the year. April Fool's Day is actually worse than getting pinched all day at work because you refuse to wear green on St. Patty's Day. At least on St. Patty's Day you get to drink green beer after work to wash the memories of the pinches away.

After Returning home from work that evening, I did my usual routine. I picked up the house, walked the dogs, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and flipped on the television. My fiancee works late three days a week as a R.N. in the surgery center. I left around 8:00 p.m. to run to the grocery store and when I returned home, my women was waiting for me with a particularly half creepy/half happily excited look on her face. She is holding something behind her back and tells me she has a surprise. Instantly, as usual, I try to think of the worst scenario I can think of so that whatever it is it will seem that much better than the alternative in my head. After asking if it is a good or bad surprise, she giggles, and hands me a fucking pregnancy test.

She's pregnant.

Holy Shit.

I know I am getting older and will eventually decide to procreate little versions of myself, but now?

Really?

No more late nights drinking beers with hot sauce all over my face or 3 a.m. drunk intercourse?

No more pointless late night drunk Ebay purchases of various sports jerseys, because all of my money will be going to diapers and Pedialite?

No more leaving my car at a friends house because I'm too intoxicated to drive and catching a ride home with someone else and waking up for work the next morning and finding out that your fiancee has already left for work and you need to run the 3 and a half mile journey to your friend's house, hungover, while dry heaving the entire way?

Ohhhh God.

I sat on the couch and tried to sort through the information that I had just been given and soak it all in, when I noticed a peculiar smile on my fiancee's face. Not a "I'm so happy that we're having a baby" face, but a "I can't believe you fucking believed me and I seriously just watched your testicles shrink and am quite sure you pooped your pants" look.

April Fools.

How cruel.

The second emotional disaster occurred earlier this afternoon. On the way home from work, I was sitting at a stop light and sneezed violently. After grabbing a tissue and wiping my nose, I noticed that my nose was bleeding. I hadn't had a bloody nose in a long time and I quickly began flipping out. Although it only lasted for a few seconds, I instantly text my fiancee at the hospital and asked her if I should be concerned. Her response?

"Holy Shit. You definitely need to come in right away. My boss said that we can squeeze you in and we have to run some tests right away. The blood that is clotting between your nose and your brain is possibly clogged and is need of help right away.

Once again, my balls recede into my abdomen and I nearly vomit with worrisome and after Googling "Nose Bleeds Brain Tumors Death" for a few minutes, I tell her that I'm on my way to the hospital and quickly head for the door.

But just like April Fool's Day, I was just another gullible victim. Apparently her coworkers were enjoying my text messages and phone conversations more than American Idol.

Once again, myself gets the best of me.