Your name is Blaine and you are the boyfriend.
Granted, right now, it sounds like you won't be for much longer.
Your girl's spewing words at your face like a pitching machine and you're getting a bit lost. She always does this when she's angry at you—conversations turn into death blows and if you don't understand what she's saying, it turns into finish him and fatality in minutes. Judging by your state of understanding right now, you're not getting out of this unscathed. But then she calms a little and says the two words that change the whole direction of your day.
"I'm pregnant."
Uh, wow. You were expecting "I'm leaving" or "Die, bastard" or something to that point, since she's been so angry, but that explains a lot. Not that you've met many pregnant women lately. Now you're living with one, apparently, since she's been transferred back home for awhile. Sure, she'll be back on her feet and running like usual soon enough, but she's going to be absolutely insufferable.
"And my parents are obviously going to make you marry me, now."
What?
Wait, what?
Sure, you might not be the most motivated guy ever and you might not have thought much about marrying her, but this is pretty short notice. You have to time your proposal so the family can at least try to imagine that you didn't get her pregnant first. Which, judging by the way your family grapevine works, would be about now. You don't have a ring or anything resembling one, so all you can do is put a tie from the bread bag around her finger and promise you'll dig something up by the afternoon.
She looks at you like you're crazy, but you've seen that expression enough to know that there's an underlying "I love you". She hates saying it, but you've learned enough about her to know she carries it around with her. Apparently getting her pregnant is something worth being more than a little angry about, which you can totally understand, but it's alright. It'll pass. Maybe.
You have to get your ass in gear and find her something remotely resembling a ring by the time her parents get here. Thank god for being a chemistry major. You've got enough things resembling shiny rocks to build a fort out of, so all you have to do is get some metal together and make it fancy. She rolls her sleeves up and gets into helping you, which is one of the things you love most about her.
By the end of the hour, you've gotten something that resembles a pretty good looking ring made out of a shiny rock and a metal ring from the shower curtain. No more than five minutes later, her parents are knocking at the door.
You gulp, knowing that there is absolutely no way this could go well.
You're done for.
Oops.