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RUNAWAY PRIDE
Cricket Garland, aka the internet’s current most infamous viral sensation
It’s just a shower,I told myself.
I need to shower, I told myself.
I’m in a safe space. I’m alone.
My phone is in the other room and completely powered off.
I can be naked in a bathroom without anything bad happening.
Again.
These are all the things I told myself this morning when I decided it was time to get out of bed in my temporary living quarters and attempt to doone thingto show that I’m not forever broken after—well.
After something I regret more than—actually, I’ve never regretted anything quite like this.
And now, after procrastinating by making the bed, stashing all of my luggage in the closet, having coffee, washing and drying and putting away my cup, I’m standing in a bathtub, shampoo rubbed into my hair, staring at the showerhead.
The showerhead that was spraying my body just moments ago but is now instead dribbling water the way showerheads do when you shut the water off.
Except I didn’t shut the water off.
It stopped all on its own.
Went from a nice, if uneven, spray that old showerheads tend to have, to the dribble that’s now slowing down to nothing more than a few drops.
Do not cry, I order myself.You are strong, you are capable, you can deal with this.
I snort softly but my pulse ratchets up and my eyes start to burn as I turn the shower handle off, then back on again, over and over with the same results.
“You can handle this,” I tell myself confidently.
Okay, okay, it was a whimper, not a confident statement, but who wouldn’t be afraid of being naked after live-streaming a wardrobe malfunction that resulted in the entire universe seeing my vagina?
A week ago, I was employed, on track to renew my lease with my roommate next month, and hitting the dating apps.
Filming lifestyle segments for a small-time digital media company wasn’t exactly cutting-edge journalism, but it paid most of the bills and gave me on-camera experience.
My roommate and I weren’t besties, but we respected each other’s space more than half the time.
My parents were—and still are—perpetually disappointed in me, but I never had to ask them for help.
And I even had a real, mostly man-made orgasm thanks to the dating apps.
Even if it was a few months ago.
Today, I would prefer the world—and everyone in it—didn’t know I exist.
Own the moment, Cricket.
Take control of the moment.
I squeeze my eyes shut, then pretend I’m behind the camera, fully dressed, underwear and all, telling someone else what to do.
