Things I Know About Egg Donation
Parents, when given the option, choose egg donors with long legs and big tits.
Things I Know About Alcohol
Alcohol is a tool of self-discovery. Drink four shots to see into the future. Drink five shots to heighten your sense of gravity. Drink six shots to double your chances of conception. Drink seven shots to undo the past. Drink eight shots to develop healthy sleep patterns.
Things I Know About Condoms
What do you do with a box of 50,000 condoms? Put the box by your bed and when people come over and look inquisitively into the box, make an exhausted, dreamy expression.
Held Together Wrists
He came over and we studied my water purifier together.
“It looks like it needs a new filter,” he said.
“But I love this filter,” I said. “Sometimes I think it’s the only thing in my life that’s consistent.”
We drank water and I tried to think of a way to make him hold my wrists together without asking him to do it. Usually, if he was around, especially if I was fully awake, I was trying to make him hold my wrists together without telling him to do it. It hadn’t ever worked. It’s just that it wouldn’t’ve been special if I had to tell him to do it.
“Why don’t you ever use my name in the stories you write about me?” he said.
“I use your name all the time,” I said, “I’m using it right now.”
For twenty dollars, I could buy a new filter. But for forty dollars, I could buy a whole new water purifying system and turn the whole world upside down.
“What do you think of that?” I said.
“I don’t know if a new water purifying system will change your life that dramatically.”
“It’s not important that there’s drama,” I said, crying, having poked myself in the eye while gesturing for dramatic effect.
We didn’t used to fight like this. Or try to change each other’s minds. I didn’t used to write stories about small things without trying to make them seem significant. But we were in a national economic crisis and things had changed, yes.
I, for one, had changed.
“I wish I was rich,” I said, “Or in love. Rich or in love.”
“I hope you’re not trying to start a conversation about the economic crisis,” he said. I saw him looking at my wrists and got a hopeful feeling. There was something beautiful about him that I couldn’t quite put to words. Something about the crevices in his face made me believe I could be a good stage-makeup artist.
“I will buy you this filter,” he said, “If you’ll pretend we don’t know each other at the cash register.”
~ ~ ~
I’m writing about love because no one else ever has and because I’m wearing jeans that make my butt look good.
I have this friend who has this boyfriend who isn’t really a boyfriend but he emotionally abuses her, I heard. He figures out what she’s insecure about and then gives her really transparent compliments that make her feel bad about her personality. She tries to pretend her feelings are hurt. I used to think the adjective a person uses the most often is the word that most accurately describes what kind of person they are. But this friend never uses the word ‘submissive.’
They have a date one night, and my friend finally gets up the courage to tell him how much she loves him, but before she can say anything he goes, “Have you ever been in love?”
And she says, “No, I don’t know. Yeah. I don’t know. No.”
And he’s like, “I have. It’s really great. You should be in love. Only not with me. You shouldn’t fall in love with me. I have a lot of very lovable friends I could introduce you to, though.”
And she goes, “It’s okay,”
And he says, “Being in love is really great, I think. You should be in love. You should try it.”
And she says, “I don’t think we should talk about love.”
And he says, “Why? It doesn’t matter. I was in love with this girl and we dated for three years but it was on and off so it was funner that way.”
And she’s like, “Cool.”
And he says, “That was pretty condescending.”
And she says, “How old are you?”
And he says, “Twenty-one.”
And she says, “I’m twenty-two.”
Even an idiot could wake up in the morning and eat his groceries and earn money and figure out what was wrong with his life and still have time to be a normal, excitable, somewhat apprehensive boyfriend.
But this idiot isn’t a boyfriend.
A boyfriend would want to spend the night.
After the date my friend called me sounding bored and exhausted.
“Today I had a date and my date fell asleep during the date,” she said.
“Is that what the entire date consisted of?” I asked.
“No,” she said, “but that’s the only part worth talking about.”
~ ~ ~
Aftermath of the 90’s
You send him a text message explaining why you are sending him a text message. “Yr famous,” it says, “want 2 hang out?” He texts you back hours later while you are stealing fountain soda from a Burger King, “Ya OK. Want 2 steal salads from Sizzler or something l8r?” This sophisticated choice in restaurant makes you worry about your class differences, but you meet him at Sizzler and hope there isn’t a theft protection device on the salad bar. You share a plate of pickled beets and chicken wings on the curb three blocks away and have a conversation about music that you only barely have a grasp on. He tries to convince you that something something contemporary alternative something easily applies to rock theory, something something something. You hold firm ground against this concept, and he affectionately calls you old fashioned. You kiss with greasy chicken wing lips and hold hands back to your bicycles, where you exchange chicken salts once more and ride off separately, not looking back.
Telescope
My dad bought a telescope as a prelude to the sex talk he would give me the next month.
“This is Saturn,” he said. “And here is a small star.”
He said I could point the telescope at whatever star I wanted. I said he could go ahead, and that I didn’t care very much what we looked at.
“Me and your mother used to go to the park at night and look at the sky together.”
“Look, that star looks kind of bluish.” I tried to point the telescope in the direction of the bluish star, but aiming a telescope is pretty hard.
“Should we stay out here much longer?” I asked. I wanted dinner.
My dad looked at me in a way I understood to be meaningful. He was forcing a moment. But I knew that, as an eleven-year-old girl, I was not responsible to figure out what the subtext was. I suppose my dad was always trying to tell me how sad he was inside.
“It’s just that I’m hungry,” I said.
My diary used to be filled with positive body image affirmations, but now it is filled with anxiety about debt and weekly observations of this weird mole I have.
WTF QT Sup
He spelled his own name incorrectly, P-o-l, and said, “That’s the way I pronounce it.” It didn’t match his identification card, I told him, and his paperwork was probably going to get lost.