Chapter One: He's Nothing Special.
09012007 – 1243A
AN: Welcome to my newest story. Yay?
Notttttttttt a lot to say about it at the moment. I'm sure I'll have more by the end. I usually do.
So let's get on with it, yes?
I hate most guys.
I can seduce them. I know this. There's not a one that's immune if I put my mind to it.
That disgusts me. They remind me of the animals on the television during mating season. Always thinking with a certain part of their anatomy as opposed to their brains.
I don't remember the last time I allowed a guy to seduce me. And yet males always seem to fall for it.
Maybe I'm unfair to them. Maybe we're preprogrammed like this?
I reason with myself that this makes little difference in my lookout. They're still weaker.
Maybe I should just be a lesbian.
I sometimes find myself reasoning this. But then I'm faced with the fact that in my life I've only ever entertained an attraction to two girls. The first is a short, curvy girl with a pension for a certain ex of mine. We flirted around for a while, but nothing ever came of it because of Allen continually getting in the way.
And I've had Allen.
He's nothing special.
Shortly after, I started feeling the familiar sense of revulsion, and distanced myself from him. The relationship crumbled shortly after.
And as always, Keni was there to pick up the pieces.
He doesn't appreciate her enough.
But she's always standing by, eager for any attention from him.
That's what love does to you.
That's why I despise it.
Along with the men that evoke the emotion.
But I digress. I was on the subject of women, was I not? Yes. As I said, the first was Keni. And then there was Cheryl.
Really, Cheryl was the first. It was always there with her. But somehow more… dormant.
Cheryl is my best friend and my would-be gay lover. We joke a lot about our "lesbonic" affairs, all the while swearing up and down that we were straight. We entertained ideas of threesomes with various guys, all of which have never, at least at this point, come to fruition. Last summer she taught me to shotgun with a cigarette and when our lips touched there were sparks that I'm not sure she felt. But as I say, nothing has come of this.
So while I am disgusted by men in general, I'd like to make my point that I'm not that into girls, either. And yet I'm not asexual. I've had lovers and I've entertained crushes. None have lasted, though, and few have left me at all upset by this fact.
At this time, there are three guys that I would consider "in my life".
The first is Nick Miller.
He's not "in my life" in a sexual way, or even a romantic way.
This point must be made, as he is currently dating one of my best friends.
But at one time, we were a couple. And even before that, he was my best friend. Our friendship/affair lasted a grand total of seven years, and that is why I suppose I still count him as one of the guys "in my life". I expect that a larger explanation of our past and present relations will come eventually, but now is not the time.
The second would be one Donald Dunn.
Nick's best friend and smoking buddy.
Head over heels for me, at least at one point.
At the present he disgusts me.
Rumours have circulated that at one point he was sloshed and got a little too hands-on with Cheryl, and since discovering this fact I have distanced myself. Cheryl is the only one who currently knows this reason.
Last summer I went mini-golfing with him and afterward we made out in his car in the Kroger parking lot. He's a shy boy at first, but then it's practically impossible to get him to release you. I was late home that evening and subsequently got my car keys taken away from me for two days.
The third is Chris Gillespie. I don't actually know much of him. I was introduced to him through Cheryl. He's three years my senior, unless you are my mother, in which case he is eighteen. He texts me often. More often than not I've conveniently misplaced my phone. I have no patience for people who try to contact me on a daily basis, particularly when I only see them once a week or so.
He and Donald both drive me out to the roof to smoke, my mother being a bloodhound and able to smell the faintest traces of smoke in the house. All I have at the moment are Camel Infused and a cheap lighter that sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. Being a minor reduces me to smoking whatever cigarettes Cheryl can get her hands on, and seeing as her choice is Infused, I am resorting to the shitty tasting apple-flavoured tobacco. They taste bad enough to be considered a quitting aide.
You may be wondering why, if Donald and Chris annoy me to such an extent, I keep in contact with them as I do. Or you may not. Either way, I plan to disclose this information to you. Aren't you lucky.
I find that it's always handy to have a guy or two that you can call upon, should the occasion arise, to escort you to a dance or take you to the movies if you have no money and are dying to see the newest release.
It's really as simple as that.
Yes, I'm a cold-hearted bitch, aren't I?
You'll get over that.
That or, you'll stop reading this.
Sometimes I find myself entertaining the idea of true love and spending the rest of my life with that one special someone.
I've decided that we'd live in Spain, in a charming little abode, from which I would be a freelance writer. There would be a small, family-owned grocery down the road, where I could become friendly with the kindly owners, and that's where I'd buy my fresh-picked produce. And we'd have wonderful candid conversations.
And the weather.
And local gossip.
But then, not long after I start this musing, I give myself a good mental slap.
And wake up.
AN: Because this story is largely autobiographical (and I do mean that), I apologize if it seems a little flighty. That's just how my life is right now. As I said, my apologies.
HOWEVER this story will blend fiction and real-life. Not everything that happens in this story will be true. So, everyone (especially those of you I know in real life), do not take the writing at face value. If you have a question about my real life, feel free to message me, but don't let certain thing that will happen in this story tarnish your opinions of me as a person. Kay? Thanks.
But I do really only have Infused cigarettes. If you're reading this, Cheryl, please trade me those good ones in the pink pack for this one? I've only smoked three in the pack and I know how you love Infused, you chain smoker, you. Arigato, love.
♥ - Luci.