I am a 32 year-old straight woman, in a new relationship with an amazing 32 year-old man.

The (overly) detailed backstory: We met online one month ago. He travels for work, and when we began talking he was at a job two hours away from me. We texted (a lot) for a couple days, then talked on the phone for two hours, then texted more, and FaceTimed, and one week after first connecting, he spent a weekend with me in between jobs. The weekend was amazing. We connect intellectually, have similar senses of humor, have overlapping values and interests, are physically into each other, etc. One thing I love about him is that he is a good communicator. Another thing I love is that he is sensitive. Even before we met for the first time, we talked about the kind of relationship we would each want to be able to have, about being able to talk to each other rather than just shutting down or blowing up.

After that first weekend, he was away for a couple weeks, during which time we continued to talk every day. He visited me again after that second job, and we had another magical weekend. He is currently at a job that is two hours away from me again, and I just visited him this past weekend. After this job he has five months off, and will return to his permanent residence, which is eight hours away from me. I am in graduate school, so I am about to have the summer off, and we have been planning to spend a couple weeks together at his place during that time. Essentially, we are at the beginning of what is shaping up to be a serious, long-term, long-distance relationship. In fact, I feel it may be the serious, long-term relationship, if you follow. I will be finished with school in one year, and we are approaching the point of deciding whether this is a relationship worth putting through the trials and tribulations of long-distance for the next year.

During our more serious conversations, we have talked about past relationships and hurts, as people tend to do. He told me about a past girlfriend who had an abortion without telling him, then told him after the fact, and broke up with him, and then tried to get back together.

The rest of this epic letter—and my response—after the jump...

He told me this story because we had decided (during our second weekend together) that he would pull-out instead of using a condom. It was my idea. He asked what I would do if I got pregnant, and I said I would have the baby, which I would. The fucked up thing here, is that I had an accidental pregnancy with the only long-term boyfriend I ever had, which was seven years ago, and I had an abortion, but I didn’t even remember this until he told me about his own experience with his ex. I know it sounds ridiculous, but when I think back to the moment when he asked what I would do if I got pregnant, I don’t remember thinking about my past experience, I just remember thinking, “of course I would keep it, I think I am in love with this person.”

Afterwards he explained that he had had what he described as "a traumatic experience," and proceeded to tell the ex-girlfriend abortion story. As soon as he said the word ‘abortion,’ I remembered my own, and I felt immediately guilty and awful. (It wasn’t until later that I realized how delayed I was in recalling this, but when I think back to how I had to deal with the whole thing on my own, and how matter-of-fact and robotic I was about it all, I guess I was partially in shock or denial, and that I had buried the experience.) Part of me wanted to blurt it out to him right then, but I didn’t want it to seem like I was one-upping his hurt or just turning the conversation to me or something like that, so I didn’t say anything. Perhaps more truthfully though, I didn’t say anything because I realized that I had just engaged in (and even instigated) the same kind of reckless behavior that led to my pregnancy and abortion seven years ago.

This past weekend, he told me that he had been married when he was 23. There is a whole separate story there, but after telling it, I could tell he felt vulnerable, and that maybe he was worried about what my reaction might be. I thought again about telling him about my abortion, but again it felt weird to say it just as a response to him telling me something difficult and personal, so again, I kept it to myself.

Nobody except my ex-boyfriend (and the folks at Planned Parenthood) knows about my abortion, so I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this. I want to tell him (current man), because I feel like not telling him is dishonest, but that also seems selfish, and like I am just looking for absolution or forgiveness or something. I want to tell him because I want him to know me the way he is letting me know him, but the things he has told me don’t reflect on him the way my story does on me. He has told me about failed relationships, and mistakes, and being hurt, but I feel like my story just shows me to be a reckless person who doesn’t learn from her mistakes. And the worst part of my mistake is that it doesn’t just affect me, so it’s like I am being careless with him, which is a million times worse. But, if I were to get pregnant now, I know that I would keep the baby, so does that make it different?

If this relationship is what I think it is, I feel I should tell him. I am kind of a compulsive truth-teller, so the thought of keeping this from someone I want to be as close as I can with just seems wrong, but again, is that just a justification for my selfish need to have someone tell me I am not a horrible, stupid person? Would it just hurt or confuse him if I told him? And the other part is, of course, what will he think of me? It’s not the fact that I had an abortion that I am ashamed of, and it’s not what he might think of me for that that I am afraid to know. It was a horrible position I put myself in, and a horrible experience that is punishment enough, so that I know I shouldn't be beating myself up about making the decision I made. It's the fact that I allowed this to happen once, and am still being irresponsible in the same way that I am ashamed and embarrassed about. Either way, though, I feel that now this has come back up, and I have this decision to make, and I just want to make sure I do the best thing for the right reason. I want this person to be in my life, in a big way, but I also need to be able to live with myself. If he's the person I think he is, I feel I should be able to tell him without fear of judgment, but is it right to put him in that position? Now this memory has come back to me, I feel like I need to resolve it, but maybe putting it on him isn't how I should do that?

Thanks to whoever reads this.

To Tell The Truth

I read it. You're welcome.

He asked what you would do if you got pregnant now, TTTT, not what you did the last time you got pregnant. And you answered that question fully and truthfully: You would have the baby, this man's baby, if you were to get pregnant by him. You could've taken the opportunity to disclose your previous pregnancy—and the choice you made to terminate it—but you were under no obligation to disclose that information to him.

So you've done nothing wrong, TTTT—not then (when you terminated your previous pregnancy), not now (when you failed to disclose the abortion you had seven years ago).

If learning about his ex-girlfriend's abortion left your new boyfriend so traumatized that he wouldn't want to date a woman who has ever had an abortion or would ever have an abortion, TTTT, then he could've and should've and most likely would've asked you a different pair of questions: "Have you ever had an abortion? Would you ever have an abortion?" But he didn't ask you those questions, TTTT. And, again, you answered the question he actually asked you. So, again, you've done nothing wrong.

As for whether you should tell him: You don't have to, TTTT, but you could and, for your own sanity, perhaps you should. And if he flips out when you tell him—if he judges you or shames you when you inform him that you, like one-in-three American women, have had an abortion—then he isn't the amazing or kind or loving person you mistook him for. A bad or shaming reaction from him outs him as an asshole in need of a prompt DTMFA'ing.

And as for your supposed recklessness...

Planned Parenthood says the withdrawal method—the man "pulling out" before ejaculating—is an effective-ish method of birth control:

• Of every 100 women whose partners use withdrawal, 4 will become pregnant each year if they always do it correctly.

• Of every 100 women whose partners use withdrawal, 27 will become pregnant each year if they don't always do it correctly.

Couples who have great self-control, experience, and trust may use the pull out method more effectively. Men who use the pull out method must be able to know when they are reaching the point in sexual excitement when ejaculation can no longer be stopped or postponed. If you cannot predict this moment accurately, withdrawal will not be as effective. Even if a man pulls out in time, pregnancy can still happen. Some experts believe that pre-ejaculate, or pre-cum, can pick up enough sperm left in the urethra from a previous ejaculation to cause pregnancy. If a man urinates between ejaculations before having sex again, it will help clear the urethra of sperm and may increase the effectiveness of withdrawal.

For comparison's sake: fewer than 1 out of 100 women will get pregnant each year if they take the pill daily; 9 out of 100 women will get pregnant each year if they screw up and fail to take the pill daily. With condoms 2 out of 100 women using condoms correctly get pregnant every year; 18 out of 100 women who aren't always use condoms correctly get pregnant every year.

Like I said: withdrawal is effective-ish. So it's not a method of birth control that I would feel comfortable using if I were a woman, TTTT, as both the risk of pregnancy is higher and it provides no protection against sexually transmitted infections. It's certainly not a method of birth control that I would feel comfortable using with someone I had only known for a month. (Is his self-control "great" or just fair? Is he trustworthy? How could you possibly know at this stage?) The risk of permanently scrambling my DNA together with someone that I had known for four short weeks—the thought of making a baby with someone I barely knew and potentially yoking myself to that person for the next 18 years—is so terrifying that I would stick to oral, anal, or manual before risking condom-less/IUD-less/pill-less PIV sex with Mr. Might Be Wonderful But Who Knows Because It's Only Been A Month.

But if you're being reckless given your past experience with an unplanned pregnancy, TTTT, then so is he. You're both being equally reckless and you both bear an equal share of the responsibility for the informed choice you made together to use the effective-ish pull-out method.

Finally, TTTT, there's a book I think you should read:

Forty years after the landmark Roe v. Wade ruling, "abortion" is still a word that is said with outright hostility by many, despite the fact that one in three American women will have terminated at least one pregnancy by menopause. Even those who support a woman's right to an abortion often qualify their support by saying abortion is a "bad thing," an "agonizing decision," making the medical procedure so remote and radioactive that it takes it out of the world of the everyday, turning an act that is normal and necessary into something shameful and secretive. Meanwhile, with each passing day, the rights upheld by the Supreme Court are being systematically eroded by state laws designed to end abortion outright. In this urgent, controversial book, Katha Pollitt reframes abortion as a common part of a woman's reproductive life, one that should be accepted as a moral right with positive social implications.

You had a normal and necessary abortion, TTTT, and you have nothing to feel ashamed about. I think reading Katha Pollitt's Pro: Reclaiming Abortion Rights could help you feel better about yourself and the choice you made. Order a copy by clicking here.