Girl, I have to call you, the message read.

 

I'm sitting on the couch with a giant bowl of popcorn resting in between my legs and my dog heavily drooling next to me on the floor, staring at me ingulf handfuls of freshly popped kernels. In between shoving popcorn in my mouth, I inspect the puddle of drool forming on the floor underneath her. I plan on cleaning it up, I really do, but Keeping Up with the Kardashians is on and I'm heavily researching their ability to style sweatpants with heels. If I knew I could have done this, I would have started that trend back in grade 8 but alas, here I am at twenty-seven still trying to figure out how many days in a row I can wear the same underwear. I discovered that the answer is: endless days.

 

I'll call you in...I text back with a greasy finger while staring at the bowl of popcorn determining how long it'll take me to finish it...five minutes. 

 

As I throw a kernel to my borderline-starving overweight dog, I lick my finger and prepare for the phone call - it's a commercial break right now, I have three minutes before the excitement continues.

 

"Hello?" the voice says.

 

"Hey girl, what's going on?"

 

"Oh my god, okay, so you know I was supposed to cut things with the guy, like obvs, you know what I'm talking about."

 

I stare at the bowl of popcorn while going through my mental roll-a-dex, "yeah, that one you met at the party where you said there was a chick wearing a hideous fucking fur coat. I think it was striped fur," popping another kernel into my mouth, "it's like, I get it, you want to be trendy and different, okay, yeah, way to be progressive, you're really going to get all the dicks with that fuckin' coat, how many animals had to die to make you look like an idiot."

 

There's a moment of silence from her end waiting for me to finish aggressively chewing the already demolished kernel in my mouth, "right. Okay, anyway, so we went for a coffee and I told him that I think we should stop sleeping together because I'm starting to catch feelings and he agreed, but then he became all touchy and flirty with me and I told him that, you know, he needs to stop because I think it's a bad idea and then--"

 

"You fucked him," popping a kernel into my mouth.

 

"Just wait, let me tell you what happened. So then he walked me home and I told him again my feelings about the situation and he said he likes me too but that he's not ready for anything serious and I get that, I mean, he just broke up with his girlfriend of five years, he's not ready for anything serious. So he agrees we should stop having sex but then he kissed me...but... this time it was different like it was like a real kiss."

 

"And then you fucked him."

 

"Okay yes, Natasha, yes, I fucked him. But this time...this time it was different."

 

"Of course, it's fucking different, he's trying to keep the pussy, he's fucking giving it all he has!" Licking the grease off my fingers, "but..." tapping my lips with my index finger, "it was probably different for you because for the first time you're expressing emotions to him and being honest with yourself which is awesome, so now you don't feel that pressure that was built up inside you. The only thing is is that he used that as a way to get your pants. So...," throwing a kernel at my dog's mouth, having it hit her nose as she flinches, "boooooo! Booooo! This guy sucks. He's a boner. Chuck him to the curb."

 

"Okay, but you know how hard it is to say no when the---"

 

"Yes," sighing heavily as flashbacks run through my mind, my index finger making light circles on the bottom of the bowl, "when the dick too bomb. I know, I know, there's even a fucking song about it."

 

"There is?"

 

"Yeah, I can't remember how it goes exactly but it's like, girl," preparing my singing voice with a single cough, "why don't you leave his ass? Girl, why don't you leave his ass? Girl, why don't you leave his ass? Cause bitch," heading nodding to the beat, "dick too bomb, bomb, bomb... and then it hits this like techno-y rap beat. That song...is 3 minutes of pure repetitive honesty."

 

"Girl, I know you feel me."

 

"Yeah, I feel you, but you know, it's time. It's time to not be this person. He doesn't respect you. And trust me, you and I both know that there are other dicks that are equally or even more bomb than his."

 

"Okay, yeah I know, but listen he was --"

 

"He doesn't respect what you told him," I look at the tv, the Dove body scrub commercial is on, one more commercial and I'm continuing the saga with Kourtney and Scott. I have to make this quick. "He doesn't give a fuck about you. If he truly respected what you said to him, how you feel about him, he wouldn't be trying to get a one-last-fuck session in but he did, he fucking did. He tried to get his dick wet after you opened up to him. I mean, sure, he may have opened up a little bit, but that was just to keep the emotions hot and running. And he fucking milked your moment of vulnerability to get that ass girl. And you gave it. You gave it on a silver platter."

 

"But you know how hard it is to say no," releasing a light whining sound, "like, the sex is just sooo good."

 

"Of course, I fucking know, you know how much time I've wasted on douchebags, playing me like I'm a god damn Spanish guitar. You're preaching to the choir but its fucking time. It's tiiiiime, it's just too much."

 

"But this time the sex really was different."

 

"Girl, are you listening to what I'm fucking telling you?" raising my voice, placing my empty popcorn bowl next to me, "it's always different when they treat it as their last fuck. It doesn't matter what happened or how it was, the point is casual sex doesn't exist and ya'll think it does."

 

"What?"

 

"I said casual sex doesn't exist. I thought, at one point, it did, I thought that it was possible, I was advocating for it because I figured we're living in the 21st century, but listen, those Amish fucks are right. Casual sex doesn't exist. You cannot have sex with someone, but actual sex, I'm not talking about fucking, I'm talking about sex and lovemaking," shivers went up my spine, "ugh, what a horrible fucking word, lovemaking, it's like the same as panties and moist in my books, anyway, point is, you cannot have sex with someone and have it be nothing.  It doesn't work, sex is the exchange of energy between two people. Like you're literally allowing someone to be physically inside you, how can that be casual? It can't be, it really can't."

 

I hear her breathing on the other end of the line, "It doesn't exist. You need to stop fucking him."

 

"I have to stop. Fuck! How did you get all this wisdom so suddenly?"

 

"I don't know, maybe it's because I'm in love with a Jew or that I'm now retired from the single life or both. I don't know how this wisdom was bestowed on me, probably from all the shitty dates I've been on. I know when someone's getting played and girl, you're getting played."

 

My show's on. Kim sits on the couch while Kourtney is eating a salad, she asks Kourtney if "longhairdon'tcare" is a good hashtag. Kourtney says no but has no further suggestions and continues eating her salad. Kim stares at her, yearning for support during this difficult time.

"You're right, you're totally right. I need to cut this like a band-aid. Fuck, where did my self-esteem go, this wasn't me two years ago," her voice becoming sombre.

 

"Your self-esteem went where they all go after prolonged years of casual sex..."

 

"Where would that be?"

 

"I don't fucking know, obviously not here. It probably got lost on Tinder after the fifth date with some guy named Vladamir and you find out he works as a Pantomime, wears heel lifts, and believes that the world is his soulmate."

 

"I am worth so much more than this," her tone lifting with motivation.

 

"You are," as I raise the television volume slightly louder.

 

"I don't need this guy in my life."

 

"You don't," narrowing in on Kourtney's conversation with her emotionally unstable baby daddy Scott. That man has a heart of gold.

 

"Fuck him, I'm messaging him and telling him it's legit over."

 

"Good for you," as I listen to Scott explaining his drunken behavior from the previous night. The man loves his strippers.  "Oh and listen, I'm proud of you for expressing your feelings, it's a big step. And it's great that you made this decision, it's time to get back on track and find someone who deserves you."

 

"Thanks, girl, thanks for listening."

 

"No worries, oh, you're probably going to fuck him again, but just try not to. Okay? You're worth more than that."

 

"Yeah, I probably will. But thanks, for a moment, I didn't want to fuck him...it felt good," releasing a sigh of relief, "I feel like I was just on Dr. Phil or something. Now I just need to find a good guy. Where did you meet your boyfriend, again?"

 

"Tinder."