Oh for crying out loud! Choose me, want me, fuck me
Shall I tell y'all a story?
“Just fuck me.” Rachel screamed into her pillow.
I look towards her direction genuinely wondering if I'm hallucinating. There’s no way she just said that.
Rachel, me, sex? Hell no.
If she asked for a kiss, well, maybe. Maybe I'd even grope a little boob to awaken her dead vagina that she’s been holding hostage for over an year in the name of celibacy and self healing.
I’m mid thought spiral when I suddenly realize she’s standing in front of me, undressing. I snap back to reality when she put my hands on her breasts.
Can she hear thoughts?
Just in case she could, I I chant in my head like a prayer, “I was just bluffing, No, hell no, please no.”
She tilts her head, “Is it because my breasts are too big?”
“Huh?” I look at her confused
“Is that why Joe doesn't want me? Is it because my breasts are big and I have back fat and love handles. That's got to be it right?” She says, her voice breaking.
“Who the hell is Joe?” I mentally ask the universe.
I'm afraid to ask aloud because she'd slap me for not being invested in her love life. Rachel usually has new love interests almost every month. Last month it was Kev, the other time it was Ken. Ugh it’s exhausting trying to keep up.
My hands are still on her breasts which make this situation wildly illegal in several countries. The room is dead silent, and after a solid 3 minutes of random yapping about Joe she gets dressed and starts sobbing uncontrollably.
I roll my eyes dramatically. Ugh Girls.
Still, I try
“Your breasts are great, soft, fleshy. You look good. Look in the mirror boo. I’d mistaken you for Georgia if I didn’t know you. Seriously, I’d kill for that figure.” (Get it? just like Georgia did)
She sniffles, “Then why doesn't he want me”
(God, here we go)
“He likes how I look, he says he loves the vibe I bring. what's wrong with me.”
“…Maybe he’s gay.”
“WHAT!” she yelled.
“WHAT?” I echo, innocent?
“HE IS NOT GAY.” She snaps. “I think…the more he gets to know me, the more he ends up liking me less.”
Now that, That I get.
You know, they say the more you love somebody, the more you grow to love them. That love deepens with understanding- the quirks, the vulnerabilities, the sacred pieces they dont show to the world. But then this moment happens, you finally let someone past the first layer, past the carefully curated version of yourself you present to the world. You share something. The irrational fear that keeps you up at night, a wound that still pains you to think about. something real and then that shift happens.
I swear I deserve free therapy for the therapy I offer my friends. Being the designated emotional support bestie should qualify for a medical stipend.
“Or maybe I’m not trying enough.” She continues
At this point I wanted to send her to the premium adult, my brother, so he could give her the adult talk that she needed. But I’m here, so I ask gently
“Okay babe, what do y’all even talk about?”
She shrugs, “you know, just general stuff. Sex, how my day was, how he’s going to visit me and we have fun.”
“Oh and you think he loves you”
Somebody grab me a chair so I can sit down, laugh and fall off it.
Her eyes widen, “why would you say that?”
Girl, I don’t know. Maybe its because you’ve never had an actual conversation. Or maybe I am the only one that craves connection. Not the surface level kind, but the real thing. I crave the exchange of thoughts, ideas, the tension and release of verbal agreement. I am a sucker for smart people. Coz y’all know men will at some point embarrass you, so at least get someone with brains (and money)
“Okay so the only thing you’ve been romanticizing is just his dick? Girl get the hell out of my sight and go listen to Megan thee stallion before I smack your beautiful ass.”
We laugh. Thank God that’s over and done with.
Well at least that’s what I thought. She ended up calling him and he rejected her. Maybe I was right. Maybe he is gay. The thought of being rejected has been driving Rachel crazy, She’s been crashing out every two hours. I wonder why, because it’s not like there was anything serious, but to her, being rejected means that she’s not useful. And she likes feeling useful. Again, I wonder why. It’s not as if the guy is interesting, or rich. Anyway, we’ll say the crazy things she’ll romanticize about when she gets a new candidate, next month. I hope that one will have money so we can send this girl to therapy.
Ugh, Girls! rolling my eyes dramatically
Shocked by my audacity to show up in y’all’s emails for the second time this week.
Regardless, I’m amazing and so are you
Goodnight.
Caroline<3