One Year Stand

It was the most hideous dress I had ever seen. It was the shade of cucumber, it was shaped like a cucumber, it had oversized, cucumber-colored bulbs on it that looked distinctly liked the bumps of a cucumber. I tried it on. Surprise, surprise, I looked like a freaking cucumber.

The dress was fine for a 6 year old in some kind of play about the sufferings of an ugly vegetable, but not good for a 26 year old maid of honor for her sister's wedding. Not good for a 26 year old who spent the last four years of her life having commitment-phobic boyfriends, a few broken hearts, and to top it all off, spent two years pining after a gorgeous but gay man.

Right now, I don't want commitment. I want to get drunk, be carried off by a hunk of a man, and have balls-to-the-walls sex. My mission, however, is impeded by this...this...gross, green puke colored cucumber...thing.

I heard muffled snorts from my right.

"This is for stealing her boyfriend in 2nd grade isn't it, Eric?" I moaned.

My brother smiled. He ruffled my hair, "Of course not Jess, she already got you back for that with the bed wetting incident in Australia. I'll go call Sherry in. She'll explain. If she's feeling merciful, maybe we can at least try to get those lumps off of it."

Eric is 8 years older than me and believes that the age gap allows him to treat me like a kid- a 26 year old kid who knows how to change diapers better than he does. My brother was married once, for about 2 weeks. He married long enough to legally be the father of the product of a drunken one night stand. The mother promptly jumped on the back of a large Harley Sportster, and rode off into a life of heroin and prostitution, or so I hoped. Bitch.

However, the baby, John, is the most amazing thing in my life. So amazing that I can look past the days of crapped up diapers and green pea mush vomit, and see his adorable face in the middle of a delighted gurgle.

Speaking of baby vomit, I gave eyed the cucumber dress once more, and slumped in an armchair, wincing as the bulbs stabbed into my butt cheeks. Maybe I'd "accidentally" drop a candle on myself during the dress rehearsal.

Sherry peeks in and grins, "How's the cucumber, Jess? I actually didn't have to order it made. Apparently, some other brides tend to be afraid of being out-prettied at their own weddings. This means that there are a few more such dresses in the wedding boutique, stored in case there's any kind of accident with this one."

"Why Sherry Why..." I moan. "This is overkill- these are for ugly brides with hot friends."

"Yes, well, it's actually because Mom doesn't want you hooking up with Jeff's third cousin's sister-in-law's best friend's brother or something, and neither do I. The dress is perfect for hiding all your curves and killing all your momentary self-confidence."

"W-what? Psh...why would I ever want to hook up with someone random...what gave you that idea?" I sputter.

She dangles a little black book in front of my face.

"That's my diary! You sneak!" I gasp. I grab for it, but unfortunately, Sherry got blessed with the tall genes. I got the puny genes. "How did you find it? I hid it so well," I pout.

She sighed, "A good hiding place is no use when you hide it in front of everyone." She threw the book back to me. "I have a date with a certain hunky man that I think is engaged to me. I expect you to be wearing the dress on Friday." She threw on her coat and scarf. As she left, she added, "If its any consolation, I also want you to wear the dress because I don't want you to be hotter than me."

After she left, I stared at myself in the mirror. Ugh.

---

I think the world has doomed me to be unwillingly single forever, and is now rubbing it in my face. I slurp a large mouthful of bubble tea and sigh. Sugar is my fix. You know how depressed people go for alcohol? Well I find sugar is a much more dangerous and addictive substance. It's largely addictive first of all, but it comes with a consequences far worse than brain damage. Fat thighs.

Nonetheless, this is an emergency. Tomorrow is my sister's wedding, and my cucumber dress has not been accidentally torn to shreds yet. Time for action. It was now midnight.

I finish my heavenly drink, and put on my best ass-kicking clothes- black Pucci pants and a tight black pseudo leather "shirt" that one of my more free-spirited friends got me from some sex boutique.

I've never kicked anyone's ass before, but I imagine the ass-kickers out there would wear something like it. I added on a black leather belt to keep my weapons on. My weapon of choice I grabbed from the kitchen drawer on the way out.

My sister had cleverly chosen to keep the cucumber dress out of my reach until the day of. She left it in the wedding boutique, along with all the other bridesmaid dresses. I drove over, and got out of the car. I walked up and tried the boutique doors, and realized I had a problem. The reason why bridesmaids are actually stuck wearing their horrendous clothes is not because they valued their friendship with the bride, but because the damn doors to the boutique is locked at night.

I sat down and pondered the question. For about half a second I considered doing the elbow into the glass window thing that you see on TV. I definitely would rather lose an arm than wear the cucumber dress, but the problem is my elbow probably wouldn't even break the glass. I stared at the doors, hoping my glare would melt the metal off.

I was so caught up hoping I had pyrokinesis that I didn't notice footsteps coming my way. An annoyingly bright LED light hit me, blinded me, freaked me out, and caused me to punch the flashlight's owner. My hand harmlessly glanced off some kind of rock, and a hand enveloped my wrist.

"You know you can be put in jail for assaulting a police officer." The deep voice resonated through my body. Yum.

I squinted, and smacked the light away from my face. "It's also rude to shine lights in people's faces. You're killing my eyes."

Yummy-voice-man turned off the light, and everything turned black. "So tell me, what are you doing at one in the morning, staring at a wedding store and wearing some Angelina Jolie costume ripoff?"

Still not able to see anything, I tried to grab hold of something before I tripped and died. "Sister's getting married, gave me freaking ugly dress. I was planning to go cut it up, but the damn boutique owners locked the door. Why would a wedding boutique lock their doors? Who would go steal a wedding dress?"

An amused deep chuckle came from somewhere to my right, "To protect themselves from cute, angry bridesmaids who would like to cut up their dresses. Does this bridesmaid have a name?"

I gave a wild swipe towards what I hoped was the wall, to steady myself while I was blind. I hit something and leaned on it. I swear I thought a wall or something. "I'm Jessica."

"Well Jessica, male police officers aren't usually sexually assaulted, but I think you can get jailed for that too." The amused voice rumbled against my hand.

Holy fuzzles. I snatched my hand away. Stupid officer standing in my way. He should be the one indicted for sexual harassment. Muscles aren't supposed to be that hard anyway. I bet he uses steroids, and so he's now bald and has tiny gonads.

I sputtered, and seeing no other escape, fled, hearing a sexy laugh ringing in my burning ears.

---

The next morning, I woke to sunlight in my face. I willed it to shut off. It did.

Alarmed that I had maybe accidentally shut off the sun, I sat up and desperately tried to shake sleep from my eyes. A large cucumber green flower greeted me.

I groaned, "Kill me now..." The nearest implement for suicide was my pillow, and I put it to good use.

"There's going to be bubble tea at the wedding." Sherry waltzed around the room with the cucumber dress- probably the first and last time that dress ever got to dance.

I removed the pillow. Bubble tea was worth living for.

I sighed. This was her day, I guess I might as well be slightly cooperative. Hooking up at a wedding where all your relatives are is probably a bad idea anyway. Grandmothers will start cackling, mothers start plotting, etc.

"Let's make a deal. I get to put that dress on at the last possible moment before the wedding, and in return, I will help you through your wedding preparations."

"You love weddings. You would've helped me if your cat died the day before. But whatever, I just don't want you seducing anyone and getting your heart broken again. You know you're not one night stand material. You know you'll keep hoping for more."

"I watched Sex and the City. I know what to do for a one night stand!"

"So you think that Carrie Bradshaw knows you better than me or our mom? I'm sorry to break it to you, but what you see on TV is one way. No, James Franco cannot see you in your sexiest underwear even if you stick your booty right up to the screen."

"I can do it! The one night stand I mean."

She smiled at me condescendingly, "Just like you thought you could keep Jimmy. But nope, Karen stole him away from you a week after you took him from me."

"I knew it! You're still mad about it. Come on, it was in 2nd grade!"

She smirked. I smiled. We linked arms and marched off to be pampered at the spa. No matter how ugly the dress, I loved my sis. And weddings. And I'm never too petulant for a few hours at the spa.

---

"My masseur was way hotter than yours."

"Is that anything a soon-to-be bride should be saying?"

"Last minute bacheloretting."

"My masseur had a nicer butt."

"My masseur had washboard abs, and nicer pecs."

"My masseur can beat up your masseur any day."

The receptionist smiled, "I think Sherry's right this time. She got Tom, our hunkiest man. He used to be a bodybuilder."

I bet the receptionist was just saying that because Sherry was going to get married today.

---

"You know you're surprisingly calm." I commented on the car ride to the wedding boutique.

"Well why should I be nervous?" Sherry gazed at me.

"I would tell you, but if you're not nervous, then I won't tell you."

"That kinda makes me nervous."

"Don't be nervous. I mean you're not like other brides."

"What? Wait. Why am I not like other brides? Is it abnormal that I wasn't nervous? What's wrong with me?"

"Ooook, bad use of past tense, you're not having second thoughts are you? I mean, you're not nervous. Nothing's wrong with you. It's just that you are Sherry, Ms. Amazing. Nothing can make you nervous."

"Is that a bad thing? Should I be having second thoughts?"

"NO! Now be a good girl and think happy thoughts."

"I can't think happy thoughts. Should I be nervous? Is this some tradition? Will I screw up the rest of my life with Jeff if I'm not nervous?"

"Well you definitely are nervous now, and somewhat on the right track for what to be nervous about."

"If I was nervous about the wrong thing does that screw up my luck? Wait, what should I be nervous about?"

Dear god, my bubble tea better be fully sugarized.

---

Two hours and three and a half nervous break downs later, I was nearly ready to just put the ugly dress on and wait in the lobby. Nearly, but not quite. I threatened to leave, and Sherry started another nervous breakdown.

Another half hour later, she was more or less kicked out of the beauty parlor and into the dressing room to wait.

Then she turned on me. Shit.

"You know what would calm my nerves? Seeing you as a cucumber," She snickered.

---

Author's Note: Please tell me how it is I haven't ever actually wanted a one night stand, so I'm not quite sure whether people plan to have them?