02/07/2013 10:42 am ET

I Am Pregnant And It's Not My Husband's Baby

I met Aurelio on Halloween. His 6-foot frame and heart-shaped ass were tucked into a storebought sailor costume, and I trailed him like a stray dog after a chicken bone for most of the night.

This was partly because native speakers of Catalan have the wildest accents, and it was all I could do to stop myself from repeating every vowel-heavy sentence that slid like syrup off his tongue and partly because it was my job. I was just hired to serve overpriced drinks and overcooked steaks at a music venue in the most tourist clogged part of Manhattan, and Aurelio was a veteran -- he trained me.

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