Once upon a time there was a girl, me, who had this life that looked really good on the outside.
I was the Features Editor of a popular entertainment website, a job my 14-year-old self would kill for. I was pretty and super skinny and had a closetful of designer clothes, shoes and handbags. I had lots of totally cool friends and we were always doing fancy shit, like going to parties and events with tight guest lists, and I was always dating some really cute guy.
But my life wasn’t exactly the way it appeared on Facebook. The reality was, I spent the majority of my days writing about Kim Kardashian's huge ass and how the Real Housewives of everywhere had fake tits and bad nose jobs, had virtually no savings because my decent salary was well dispersed between Barneys, an expensive car lease and an overpriced loft in Venice, only a handful of those "friends" were real friends and my boyfriends were usually sort of unemployed and had some sort of a substance abuse problem.
But I just accepted things the way they were, because I thought I was happy and I was too lazy to make any changes.
One of these guys I dated was Loser, who I had seen on and off since my early twenties. He was your typical hot mess struggling writer/musician type, always running to me when things got bad and I was desperate to save him. I swore every time that I was done but I never was.
This time was no different, and it was right after Christmas and I was vulnerable, incredibly lonely and wanted to feel loved, so I caved in the most careless way possible.
Read the rest of Leah's story on xoJane: IT HAPPENED TO ME: I WAS SINGLE & PREGNANT AND STILL GOT MY HAPPILY EVER AFTER