I liked it.
“I’m in.”
One
Don’t invite me places. I was born by c-section. I didn’t want to come out then, and I certainly don’t want to come out now.
—Eddy’s secret thoughts
Eddy
Four months ago
“You’re never, ever going to believe this,” I said to my sister.
“What?” Nettie asked, sounding excited.
“I went on a date last night with some lumberjack that works at Paul Bunyon’s. And as we’re on this date, a woman comes in that looks like she could strip paint off a Buick. She starts looking around, her eyes like lasers, and she spots the man I’m on a date with.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah,” I groaned. “So, I’m sitting there with this nice lumberjack named Steve who supposedly has never had a girlfriend or a long-term relationship, and bam. She marches right up to him once she spots him, narrows her eyes at him as if she’s in the presence of a ghost, and says, ‘What the fuck are you doing, Stephen? I thought we were going to go out tonight?’”
“God,” Nettie groaned. “He’s dating her?”
“He’s dating her,” I confirmed. “When I’d gasped in shock and looked at him accusingly, this woman is all nods and hands on hips and toe taps. She looks at me, tells me that he plays this trick all the time, and that she’s had to break him off of three dates lately.”
“Oh, my god.” Nettie starts snorting she’s laughing so hard. “So what did you do?”
It’s as if my twin knew me or something…
“I told him in no uncertain terms that was I never going to be a side chick, and he should know better than to go into a date with false pretenses.”
“And then what?” she asked.
“I told the girl she needed to have some self-respect and find a man that wouldn’t cheat on her,” I answered.
Nettie, my twin sister and best friend, sighed. “That didn’t go over well.”
“Well, not really,” I admitted. “I was sitting there, explaining the virtues of a man that doesn’t cheat—as if I know since I haven’t found one of those yet, but I’ve read about them in my smut novels—when she loses it and tells me that she’s a solid four, and all she can get is another solid four. And that I need to mind my own business, because honestly, ugly people that have a good job are hard to come by.”
That’s when my sister started hyperventilating because she was laughing so hard.
“And then what did you do?” she wheezed.
“I told her if she cut her hair properly, and maybe thought about taking the bull ring she had in her septum—she really did have a bull ring, she told me—and started dressing a little more conservatively, or at least thought about wearing clothes that actually fit her instead of ones that are two sizes too small, she might pick up a decent man.”
More wheezing.
“And her hair was colored this putrid color of green with her brown roots showing at least an inch.” I sighed. “She was a four because she made herself a four. I just wanted her to know that.”
“Then what happened?”
“Stephen started to yell that he wasn’t a four, that he was at least an eight. It degraded from there, and I just got up and left. But not before declaring to the entire bar that was listening that I wasn’t a side chick. And never would be.”
“Jesus.”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
