My friend and I went to breakfast last week after a night out. By 9 am we had already exhausted ourselves talking about sex and men and we both agreed that we are confused by women who don’t enjoy getting freaky.
Then this happened:
Sara: Do you feel like you are “acting out” as a way of coping?
Me: I am not “acting out.” I feel stronger, really, and I just want to be normal.
Sara: You’re crazy and that’s okay.
Me: Well, a little bit, but not like “crazy crazy.”
Sara: The harsh reality is that you’re a crazy person. We both are. It’s time to accept and embrace this fact. I mean, you fart on cats, flash your boobs to strangers on Skype and you get angry at boyfriends when they are too tired to give you sex. Also, you believe a ghost tried to have sex with you and you backed it up with a reference to Baywatch.
Me: It was only one cat and only one stranger. I don’t like not having sex and I just think that when you get the chills it means you’re having sex with a ghost–I saw it on Baywatch.
Sara: Listen, there are plenty more reasons and I am just saying, you’re great, smart and beautiful and the more you accept your unique self, the better.
Me: I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my unique ship. I’ve got this.
Sara: Theeere she is.