I know that what happened after that was my fault. After all I always take responsibility for my actions, but this was unlike anything that I had ever done – ever.

I entered the apartment which felt strange from the moment I dropped my keys on the table. I took off my coat and put it away. Everything was neat. Too neat. And too quiet. "Maureen," I called. There was no answer.

Turning my attention back to the table, I noticed my keys had fallen next to a blue letter, folded in thirds, and labeled "Pookie." I frowned in confusion as I reached for it. She wouldn't leave a letter like that if she had gone to the loft or she had a rehearsal.

"Dear Pookie;

There's no easy way for me to say this, but I've decided to move to L.A with Pierre. By the time you find this letter, I'll be long gone…..

There was more to it then that, but I couldn't bear to read it. Things had been going so well. Then she goes and drops this bomb on me. How dare she put me through her tango again? Despite my anger, I burst into heartbroken tears. There was one person in the world that understood me. I needed him right now.

Through watery eyes, I make my way past the graveyard where Angel was buried. It was almost a year since he had passed away, and I shivered from something other than the cold. I saw someone else I knew come out of the graveyard with his camera in hand. "Hi Joanne," he lifted his hand in greeting. I threw my arms around him crying.

"Joanne, what's wrong? Where's Maureen?" he asked in a panic.

"She moved to L.A with Pierre."

"That guy from her play?"

I nodded as I tried to gain composure.

"You're freezing. Let's go to Life, and have a cup of tea," he suggested, taking off his coat and wrapping it around me. I was grateful to have such a good friend. His coat smelled delicious. The scent of leather mixed with the cologne he wore since he had been hired on at Buzzline. It was heavenly intoxicating.

"I'm sorry about what happened Joanne," Mark said as he opened the door for me. I shrugged. "I didn't even know what hit me."

"When you're dancing her dance…" he said. "She missed out."

"What?" I asked, taken aback.

"You treated her so well. It's her loss."

"It just hurts – I got dumped. I'm never going to trust a woman again," I muttered.

"What about Mimi?"

"What about her?"

"She's a woman. Do you trust her?"

"With my life, but she's also straight. Let's go get really drunk," I said. We had just finished our third round of beers, and they weren't working fast enough. "I've got a case of scotch at my house."

We walked in the door of the empty apartment, but it wasn't empty now. It had me, and Mark. "I always wonder what it is that women see in men," I said as I hung on Mark.

"Attraction, chemistry…." He listed nervously.

I kissed him. Maybe it was the beer, maybe I just wanted to feel something else, but I kissed him. I expected it to be like kissing a brother, but it was far from it.

He kissed me back. We stood that way for awhile, letting our lips explore each other.

I slipped off my shirt.

"Are you hinting what I think you're hinting at?" he asked softly.

I nodded as I led him into the bedroom. I was about to lose my straight virginity to Mark Cohen.

"How did this happen?" he asked the next morning as we lay close in bed.

"I don't care anymore, but I liked it," I said.

"I was scared you'd run away. You're supposed to be a lesbian, remember?"

"I think you just converted me," I said, smiling and cuddling into him.

For a guy, Mark was the hottest one I had ever seen.

We talked throughout the week, and went on a date that Friday.
"You know, that's the first time I've let the girl pick a movie and it hasn't been a chick flick," he observed as we walked out of the movie theater.
"I'm a lawyer, remember? I find legal thrillers entertaining."
"That courtroom shot was amazing. That camera angle was a stroke of genius," Mark enthused.
I laughed. "You're the only person that can come out of seeing a movie and discuss camera angles."
"We could discuss other stuff."
"Such as?"
"Us," he suggested taking me in his arms. His body sheilded me from the cold nip in the air.
"I like that idea."
"Joanne, I'm falling for you," he gently warned me.
"I'm falling for you too."

We walked back to his loft to hang out. Collins and Roger were there. Collins with a sheath of papers in front of him, scratching at them with a sharpie, while Roger was strumming his guitar.
"Did you take your AZT?" Mark asked them as we walked in.
"Yes mother," Roger snarked, returning to his music.
"Hey Joanne," Collins greeted me.
"Hi."
"Where's Maureen?"
Mark started, but before he could speak, Roger jumped in. "Didn't you have a date tonight?"
"Yeah man, you're home early," Collins said looking at the clock.
Mark's response was to dip me back into a kiss. Collins's jaw dropped, and Roger nearly dropped his guitar. It was priceless.

A few weeks later, I woke up feeing incredibly nauseous, but went to work anyway. I had an important deposition coming up, and I couldn't afford any mistakes. Suddenly I needed the bathroom. I made it to the toilet in the nick of time. I had been feeling like this for the past few days. Maybe it was time to go to the doctor. At least for a checkup.

"Congratulations, you're pregnant," Dr. Forbes told me. "This can't be happening," I groaned. Last month I was a lesbian, this month I was straight, and pregnant, and semi alone. This sounded like something my former lover Maureen would pull. Maybe this is what I get for sleeping with men.

As I walked up the stairs to my apartment, I thought about how having a baby wasn't' necessarily such a bad thing. Maureen and I had talked about one of us getting pregnant when we were together from a sperm donor. Besides I wasn't getting any younger. I was at a good place in my life, and would have a lot to offer the baby. I just had to think of a way to tell Mark.