How To Have Sex With A Stranger
Don’t tell your friends.
Don’t tell your friends because they will be concerned. Once they are concerned, it will be harder to sneak off and have sex with this stranger. Once they are concerned, you are required to be concerned.
If your friends do find out, let them try to fix you. Listen to them tell you that you need help. Listen as they explain why it’s bad to be having sex with someone you don’t know, repeatedly.
Listen as your best friend tells you that this is wrong. This stranger is not a good man and you deserve better.
Then nod your head.
Nod your head, shed a tear, and give your best friend a hug and then offer a reassuring smile. Say “thank you.”
They mean well, they just don’t know.
Don’t talk to the stranger. Do not attempt to establish a relationship because you know there isn’t one there. You know.
The stranger works outside for a living, didn’t go to college, drinks beer with every meal, and doesn’t own a single book.
The stranger has tattoos, an awful haircut, and a lopsided smile. He calls you beautiful. Think, “You’re right, I am too beautiful for you.”
Immediately regret thinking this. But no one can hear your thoughts. Which is good, because no one understands.
If you must have conversation, play dumb. Play cute and pretend like you’re totally into him. Everything he says makes you giggle. Act like you don’t realize he’s watching you, but toss your hair or pout your lips as if it’s natural.
And if he starts to text you, end that.
It may hurt when you realize there is no potential for an actual relationship. Shake that feeling off. Remind yourself to feel nothing. You know why.
Don’t think about what youre doing. If you think about it, you realize why you’re sleeping with this creep. This lowlife you don’t know. You don’t know any of his friends, his middle name, what he does in his spare time, anything about his family. You don’t know if he really is 23. For all you know, he’s 30. Or worse, 20.
So don’t think about it.
Don’t. Because then you’ll remind yourself that he’s the reason. The reason your grades went to hell this semester. The reason your best friend thinks you hate her. The reason why you have to lie to your roommates, study groups, anyone who gets in the way of you meeting up with this stranger.
Remind yourself why you’re doing this. To hold on. To find sanity.
Realize it’s having the opposite effect.
Don’t think about it, because you’ll realize you’re sleeping with this guy because you don’t know what else to do.
He took your virginity three months ago.
He took your virginity without asking and now you’re lost. Lost and confused except for when you sneak to his house, have sex, and leave immediately after. Because then, you find clarity.
You find a moment of peace as you drive away, down his dirt road, blasting music with the windows down at 3 a.m.
The country songs on the radio cannot come close to the sadness that is your world.
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I wish to God I’d had a list like this when I was 23.
Answer phones better than anyone else has answered phones before. Relay messages so brilliant, they bring people to tears. Turn the coffee run into the choreography of Swan Lake. Become best friends with every intern and every underling and every taxi driver you encounter.
I remember taking the pen and notebook from that woman outside the courtroom, flipping to a clean page in the book, and writing, JESSICA IS SAD in big, bold, uncoordinated letters. “My sister is going to be a good writer someday! Look at how nice her lines are!”
To begin, I got totally screwed over in the dental genes department. I was born with a pretty severe overbite and a mouth that was too small.