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I hug myself, wishing my arms could open up into a parachute because, with his driving skills, I’m going to need it. Finally, I spot the guard gate to my new complex. I feel one percent safer now.
“You ladies here for work or pleasure?” The creepy-as-hell driver asks us. It's the way he stresses pleasure that makes me want to vomit.
Having that second coffee feels like a mistake.
I sink further into the cracked leather seat. This is why I don’t get into cars with drivers I don’t know. I’ve read one too many horror stories.
Sensing my discomfort, Harper inches closer and places her hand on my thigh. My shield. God, how I miss her since she moved.
After catching wind of Andrew's engagement, I decided to venture back into the dating scene with a rather unconventional goal that might make some mothers cringe. I was on a mission for a one-night stand. The plan was to wipe away all traces of Andrew from my memories. Look, I know sex isn't a checkbox item, but desperate times call for, well, unconventional measures.
So, I braved the world of dating apps and ended up on a date with a guy named Kenny. Harper did her hacker magic, vetted him, and gave him the Harper seal of approval. If only I had enlisted her skills when dealing with Andrew, maybe Peter would still be alive if I had.
One date turned into two, then three. I kept prolonging it, thinking I would be ready to sleep with him on the next date. Before I knew it, we found ourselves at Kenny's place. The pivotal moment arrived, and there we were, on the verge of having sex. But nope, I panicked. I jerked away and said my stomach hurt. It was the only thing I could think of. He probably thought I had a sudden bout of diarrhea. And then, in a move that could rival an Olympic sprinter, I fled through the door and never called him back.
It turns out I just wasn't ready. I was angry at myself, frustrated, and, honestly, a little embarrassed. I can't blame poor Kenny; he was just caught in the crossfire of my Andrew-induced emotional chaos.
Mentally, I wanted to have sex. I wasn't scared of all men, just cautious. I still hungered for an orgasm, something Andrew never gave me. I wanted to find my unicorn, a man who could make me come but also respect me and make me feel safe. There was no way I was going to shut myself off and never have sex again because my first time was traumatic. I needed to move on with my life. It was my stupid body that froze up with the terrors of what Andrew did.
Therefore, I’m trying a different approach. It turns out a one-night stand wasn’t the magical eraser I thought it would be for my emotional past. So, I’ve shifted gears to the tried-and-true method of normal dating—getting to know a guy on a deeper level. I want to date, fall in love, and trust a man with my heart and body; I want a family again.
However, with how the driver navigates these highways, I’m just worried we won’t reach my new apartment in one piece.
“Watch how it’s done,” Harper whispers to me. Her eyes see the now three minutes to our destination on my phone.
My eyes bulge because Harper has been known to pull out her can of mace and spray it as well. Something tells me driving the roller coasters known as the ‘Dallas highway’ is not the place to blind our driver.
“We are here for treatment,” Harper replies with a heavy exhale.
My forehead wrinkles.What is she up to?
“My poor sister here has just returned from a backpacking trip across Europe, but unfortunately, she brought back a companion, or should I say multiple.”
The driver’s beady eyes clash with mine in the mirror. Harper clears her throat, “She’s just riddled with Pthirus pubis.”
With what? Wait, did she say pubis?
“What’s that?” The driver grunts.
“Crabs, otherwise known as Pubic lice. I told her to keep up with her waxing, but she said they like a bush in Europe. However, so do animals and STDs. Note to the wise: shave it bare so the STDs don’t go there.”
Oh. My. God. Oh my god!!!
It’s not the worst joke she has played on me. But seriously! Right here, right now!
She leans closer to him, “You might want to disinfect your seats if I were you. Those little bitches spread like wildfire.”
The car jerks. Again.
“Harper!” I screech.
“She’s touchy about the subject. It is an embarrassment, after all.” She adds. "But, I told her these types of things are common nowadays. No shame, right? Having an STD is like getting verified on Instagram. A badge of honor for some.”
“Get out,” he begins to pull the car over.
Harper changes her tone. It's scary how cold and forceful she can make it. “Listen here, buddy. We had put up with the eye-fucks; the creepy comments. You licked your lips so much that no chap-stick can heal it. It’s one hundred and ten degrees outside. At that temp, the crabs will multiply. Floor the gas, keep your eyes on the road, and get us to our destination.”
I bury my head in my hands. Mortified.
