Abigail Barnette's Blog, page 31

Mom and Wednesday See Phantom Of The Opera

My daughter is obsessed with The Phantom of The Opera. I don’t know why. Obviously, some of this is due to her constant involvement in community theater (next Friday marks her fourth show this season), but I’d be lying if I said she only just found Phandom. When she was three, one of her Christmas presents was a set of Phantom-themed felt hand puppets (Christine, Raoul, and The Phantom). She’s been into this since she was a toddler.

Last year, I was lucky enough to give her an even better Christmas present: front row tickets to the national touring company of Phantom, which stopped in Kalamazoo in February.

I mean, front row tickets to the matinee. I don’t have front-row-at-7-p.m.-money. I’m not the Monopoly man.

Now, this Christmas present was really the ultimate sacrifice, as I knew that I would be the one who had to take her to the show. And I am not hugely enthusiastic about Phantom. Especially not when the movie is on a near constant loop in my home. But it was worth it all to hear her biting criticisms of the performers.

Since it’s been a while since she was on my YouTube channel (as she has reminded me countless times), I was happy to collaborate on this video with her, in which we discuss the cool parts and the weird parts and whether or not Gerry Butler was a good Phantom.

Spoiler: we are hotly divided on that.



Stayed tuned tomorrow for the “spooky” Patreon reward video for January/February!

Trout Trouble!

Remember Double Steve Bonus Mondays? Well, I’m in Double Steve Trouble right now. Over Double Steve Bonus Monday, kind of. Why? I can’t go into real deep detail about it until after all the legal stuff is over, but there’s a dispute over the usage of one of the Double Steve Bonus Monday photos. Now, I need to settle out of court. So, I created a GoFundMe. I’m always asked you guys to crowdfund my fabulous lifestyle and now here I am with this glamorous lawsuit? Get out of town. It’s freakin’ Dynasty over here!

After things are settled and I can talk about the case, I have a lot of advice to give authors/bloggers/creatives so they don’t end up in a “live and learn” kind of situation. But in the meantime, if you could share my GoFundMe around, I would super appreciate it. In the meantime, you’re running a blog, keep track of where you got all of your photos from and the license they’re being used under.

 

A Confused Bisexual: An Interlude

FADE IN

INTERIOR – BEDROOM – NIGHT. JENNY has just watched footage of Chris Evans helping Regina King balance so she wouldn’t trip on her dress while accepting her Oscar.

JENNY

Would you have sex with Chris Evans?

Mr. Jen shakes his head and doesn’t look up from his phone.

JENNY

But why not?

MR. JEN

Because I don’t like men. I don’t think of men sexually.

JENNY

Okay, but. How?

MR. JEN

What do you mean how?

JENNY

How do you not like dudes?

MR. JEN

They just do nothing for me.

JENNY

What if you had to?

MR. JEN

Why would I have to?

JENNY

The world will end! You would have sex with Chris Evans to stop the world from ending.

MR.JEN

Why is the world ending?

JENNY

Why don’t you find Chris Evans hot?

MR. JEN

Because I’m straight!

JENNY

How? I can’t get my melon around this! How does that even work?

MR.JEN

It’s just how it is. Imagine someone you would never have sex with.

JENNY

Okay.

MR.JEN

That’s what it’s like.

JENNY

So for you…having sex with Chris Evans would be like me having sex with Rush Limbaugh?

MR. JEN

Don’t be disgusting. Chris Evans is not Rush Limbaugh.

JENNY

So, you would have sex with Chris Evans.

Mr. Jen sighs deeply. A long silence follows.

JENNY

Let’s say you got a cold or something. The gay cold. That made you gay.

MR. JEN

A gay cold.

JENNY

Yeah. You got a cold and now you’re gay. Who are your top five?

MR. JEN

It’s five now?

JENNY

No, just who would be in your top five. Look, we can make this the bi flu. I’ll meet you halfway here.

MR. JEN

I thought bi doesn’t mean halfway.

JENNY

Work with me! So, you have the bi flu–

MR. JEN

I would still have sex with the girls!

JENNY

But why

MR. JEN

Imagine having sex with one of your friends.

Jenny visibly tries to imagine such a scenario.

JENNY

Oh. Ew.

MR. JEN

That’s what it’s like to not be sexually attracted to someone. I just am not interested in sex with guys.

JENNY

Okay…but not even Chris Evans?

FADE OUT.

THE END

State Of The Trout: Writing News and 2019 Book Releases (Yes, including another Boss book)

Hey there everybody! So, as you may recall, 2019 got off to a real, real fucking rocky start for me. I’m still not 100% recovered from my breakdown, so rather than push myself into another one, I decided to step back and accept that yup, I’ll probably have to put off Where We Land, which had been slated for March. And now I’m accepting the fact that yup, I have to tell everyone that’s what’s happening. Which sucks. But yes, for now, Where We Land is being pushed back. To when? I don’t know. Probably May. Maybe earlier. It’s all going to depend on my healing, how well I can function, and how much I can expend my energy. I very much downplayed the severity of what was going on, but as I’m still not quite myself, I don’t want to rush a book, have everyone hate it because it’s rushed, and then fall back into the pit of, “You were never supposed to do this, you’re a mistake, you don’t belong in the world,” which is the really dark place my imposter syndrome takes me.

HOWEVER.

This doesn’t mean I’m not writing. Nightmare Born is still updating every Tuesday on the Radish app. A new chapter becomes free every Tuesday, too, so if you’re patient enough, it can be a free read!

I’m also very pleased to announce that I’ve started writing for SyFy Fangrrls. They asked me to watch a movie called I Bought A Vampire Motorcycle and write about it.

Yeah, it’s a real movie. You can read “67 thoughts we had while watching I Bought A Vampire Motorcycle” here. 

Look for more from me at SyFy Fangrrls coming soon, including articles about The Good Place and how fucking mad I am at the way we treat teenage girls in the fantasy genre.

Now, let’s talk about books. I’ve already mentioned that Where We Land is probably going to come out in May. But there will still be books in March and April. I’m working on re-releasing some of my Abigail Barnette titles that I’ve received the rights back on. Awakening Delilah will be available again in March, as part of the Northern Circle series that will feature books by me, Bronwyn Green, Jessica Jarman, and Kris Norris. All the books in the Northern Circle series will be paranormal romances set in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, making the deer, fox, and bat shifters in Awakening Delilah a perfect fit.

April brings us baseball (well, technically, March brings us baseball this year), so my Hardball series, previously released as three novellas (Long Relief, Double Header, and Triple Play), will be re-released as an anthology.

Now, if you already own those books, you don’t have to re-buy any of them. Any changes will be extremely insignificant, as I’m pretty happy with them.

Then, coming up in the fall, yes, there will be another book about Sophie Scaife and the men she loves. The Stepmother is going to pick up very close to where The Boyfriend ended. And it’s going to be a ride.

So, that’s the news I have for 2019, writing-wise. So far. I mean, anything can happen, right? Maybe tomorrow I’ll get offered a three book contract to write about marmalade.

The Accidental Cat

A little over a year ago, my mother-in-law died suddenly. Being the geographically closest family members, all of the death responsibilities fell to us. This included rehoming her demon cat, Pumpkin.

To tell the rest of the story, I have to make it clear that Pumpkin was not a cat I hated due to me just not understanding how cats work or what cats’ emotional needs are. When I say this cat was evil, it is because it attacked out of pure malice. Yes, the cat had a troubled backstory: it was a declawed stray trying to survive on its own in the trailer park where my mother-in-law lived at the time. I could understand why such an animal might deceptively coil itself around a person’s ankles as Pumpkin was wont to do, begging to be petted only to suddenly and violently change its mind the last second. That seems like reasonable, albeit traumatized, cat behavior.

So, why, understanding this, do I still maintain that Pumpkin might have been the actual devil? Out of all the times I can recall being attacked by Pumpkin for absolutely no reason, the one that sticks out most was when she ran from the back bedroom of Mother-In-Law’s trailer specifically to attack me as I was leaving the house. Though I hadn’t interacted with Pumpkin at all until that moment, she zoomed down the hallway, straight to where I stood with the door already opening for me to leave. She bit my Achilles tendon, causing my ankle to swell and my shoe to fill with blood. I shook myself free, but it remains second only to the time I was repeatedly bitten by a dog as my worst animal experience.

Everyone who visited Mother-In-Law had similar stories about this cat, who loved its owner and sought to maul any other living human. My children were terrified of her. Hell, grown people were so terrified of her that some of Mother-In-Law’s friends refused to enter her home. The cat was a menace.

Years go by. My husband’s mother moved out of the trailer park, across the state to a town near Flint. Pumpkin, of course, went with her and continued her life as an indoor/outdoor menace, often slinking out any time the front door opened. When Mother-In-Law’s health declined, she hired an unlicensed home aide through the recommendation of another person in her apartment complex. This woman came to the house and did laundry, bought groceries, cleaned the apartment, anything that my disabled Mother-In-Law could no longer do on her own. We were happy that there was someone close by that Mother-In-Law could count on, but the woman was…odd. She was conversationally flighty, forgetting from one second to the next what she’d just been talking about. She moved constantly, almost manic in her mannerisms. She was unrelentingly cheerful and instantly overfamiliar, revealing far too much about herself and her family dramas (of which there seemed to be an endless source) than strictly necessary upon first meeting someone.

“There’s something not quite right about her,” Mother-In-Law said once, fondly. “But she really is sweet. She’s a terrible driver, though. If we go anywhere, I have to drive. She’s a menace on the road.”

Coming from a woman who had once veered across the center line directly into the path of an oncoming semi because she’d taken a few too many painkillers and was trying to answer her cellphone, this was a terrifying criticism.

When it became clear that Mother-In-Law needed to be closer to us if she was going to maintain any independence, she moved into some apartments not far from my husband’s work. In the week before the move, though, Pumpkin disappeared.

Mother-In-Law was understandably distraught. “I have to leave in three days! I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t get her to come back inside!” But luckily, Pumpkin returned in the nick of time, found in the parking lot by Mother-In-Law’s caretaker.

Pumpkin had some trouble adjusting to the new apartment. Not all that unusual for a cat. She stopped going outside, running away from instead of toward freedom when people came and left. She seemed to have lost some weight while she was missing but never put it back on, despite eating more than she ever had before. But the strangest part of Pumpkin’s behavior was the lack of bloodshed; from the moment Mother-In-Law brought the cat to the new place, it never attacked anyone again.

In the weeks before she died, Mother-In-Law commented on these changes. “I don’t know what happened to her when she was missing, but she’s a completely different cat now.” This wasn’t a negative. It’s always good when people can visit your home without fending off an animal attack. And it was also a great relief, in the wake of Mother-In-Law’s death, to think that we might not have to euthanize the cat for the good of mankind. Old age and one last misadventure had calmed Pumpkin enough that it might actually be possible to rehome it. Somehow, dealing with the demon cat had become the easiest part of the entire ordeal.

I called a friend who has cats because I find that people who really, really like cats either know someone who’s looking for another cat or are looking for a new addition, themselves. After stalking the traumatized Pumpkin around the apartment, I managed to get a few photos of her. I texted them to Cristin, who immediately offered to take her on the basis off her sad story. All I needed to do was take Pumpkin for a check-up and to update her vaccines. I called the vet and made an appointment.

“And how old is the cat?” the receptionist asked.

I tried to do the kind of panicked time math one does when recalling events that don’t directly concern them. Let’s see, she got the cat when her dad was still alive and he died while we were living in Grand Rapids, and it was in the fall so it wouldn’t have been 2006 because we moved away from Grand Rapids in June of 2006. That means she had to get the cat sometime between 2003 and 2005. It was fully-grown when she got it, so even assuming the cat was a year old, that means… “I don’t know. Between thirteen or fifteen years old?”

“But there’s a problem,” I explained. “This cat is so violent. It’s the most dangerous cat I’ve ever seen in my life. We need to probably sedate it.” After all, a tiger can only change so much about its stripes. The cat hadn’t attacked anyone in ages, but nobody had been trying to take it to the vet, either.

The vet’s office gave me some medication I could administer in the cat’s wet food. I did what had to be done and returned a few hours later with my son as backup. I went to the eerily empty apartment armed with thick leather gloves and a cat carrier. I instructed my son to close all the doors and said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t end up in the ER needing stitches. I’d already drugged the cat, but it still put up a fight trying to get it into the carrier. Somehow, we got it to the vet’s office. They only had Pumpkin in the exam room for a short time before they came out and asked to speak to us.

“How old did you say this cat was?” The vet tech asked, frowning at the computer.

“At least thirteen. Possibly fifteen or even older.” I explained how Pumpkin had originally been a stray and how she fit into the convoluted timeline I’d used to figure it all out. “Why?”

“Because there is no way that cat is more than five years old.”

I laughed in disbelief. Then I heard Mother-In-Law’s voice in my memory, clear as a bell: “She’s like a completely different cat.”

The vet came out to explain stuff about tartar and degrees of teeth yellowing and changes to eyes and fur and muscle tone. I just nodded along, stunned. I knew I wasn’t mistaken in my estimate. What I didn’t know was what the fuck was going on. Was Pumpkin immortal? That would have been the second worse news I’d gotten that week.

At home, my husband and I looked through some of Mother-In-Law’s photos, until we found one of Pumpkin. We compared it to the photos I’d taken on my phone.

We were looking at pictures of two clearly different cats.

The resemblance was startling, don’t get me wrong. Their markings weren’t the same, but they were similar enough that it wouldn’t have been apparent without a side-by-side comparison. We were still definitely looking at two different cats. “Pumpkin” wasn’t smaller post-move because she’d lost weight. The cat I took from my Mother-In-Law’s apartment was substantially smaller in length and height, as well. But how did New Pumpkin come into my Mother-In-Law’s care? And what the hell happened to Pumpkin Classic?

“You don’t think your mom would have adopted another cat because Pumpkin died or something?” I asked, even though she had been one of the least likely people I could think of who would do something like that. She wasn’t sentimental enough that the loss of her cat would have sent her into denial. Plus, the new Pumpkin was declawed, something Mother-In-Law opposed and had lamented about Old Pumpkin. She was a practical person and wouldn’t have been so consumed with cat-related grief that she would seek out and mutilate another cat. So, we started tossing around the clues we had.

Pumpkin had been found and returned by Mother-In-Law’s caretaker. The strange, spaced-out woman who seemed to have only one foot planted in reality. Who was a noted reckless driver. Who often let the cat out as she was leaving.

Who brought back a different cat.

Wearing Pumpkin’s collar.

I think you can puzzle these pieces together, here. I regret to say that, outlandish as it sounds, the only explanation that makes sense (and I used that term loosely) is that the caregiver ran over and killed Pumpkin, then somehow (and I don’t even want to know) found a strikingly similar tortoiseshell cat, had it declawed and returned it with Pumpkin’s collar on it.

Today, “Pumpkin” still lives with my cat-loving friend. She’s still cagey and traumatized, but I would imagine that could be due to being suddenly adopted, declawed, moved to two locations in two days, and then having its new owner die only months later. Totally reasonable.

And the original Pumpkin is probably residing happily in hell, where it belongs.

Let’s Clear Up Our Commenting Policy

I don’t generally get involved in comments here on the blog. I read some of them, but over the years I’ve sort of begun to think of the comment section as a place where you guys can talk to each other about what I wrote. Sometimes, I wade in, other times I think, “You know, I’m going to mind my own business today.”

That’s why when I saw comments pop up on a five-year-old post today, I kind of laughed and didn’t look into them. It’s a post that had an argument going on in the comments that I guess started with someone feeling another commenter was too bitchy and critical (but not me, which is astounding) and every year, another reply or something would show up on that post or in the thread. And again, if people are like, “Well, you’re being a bitch!” “No, Jenny is a bitch!” I feel like maybe they don’t necessarily want me to be involved in that conversation? So, I never really kept up on it.

Today, Tez, my amazing comment moderator (who also caught Lani Sarem up to shenanigans on this here blog), contacted me to tell me that something weird was up. The new comments on that five-year-old post? Were all from the same ISP address, but using names of people who had been arguing in the thread to make it appear as though they retracted their earlier comments.

These are not the words of the people who left the original comments. The names are the same, but the ISPs and redacted email addresses all match and belong to another commenter who decided to wade into a five-year-old argument just to make it appear as though people were confessing to being sexist trolls and begging for forgiveness from the person they were originally arguing with. Perhaps most upsetting are the comments that read:

I feel terribl now that she is dying. We shouldnt have been so mean to her.

and

Guys. I was the biggest jerk of all here. None of what you did can even compare with how I treated her. I just got another text from her BF. She’s doing a little better now, but they’re afraid of a relapse.

There was no mention anywhere in these threads or anywhere else about anyone being near death or relapse, but this person wrote it as some kind of weird comment fanfiction, pretending to be other people begging for the forgiveness of a commenter they got into a scrape with five years ago?

What the hell were you thinking, person who did this? What on Earth made you think this would ever be okay? Do you realize how creepy your behavior is? Pretending to be someone else so you can apologize to another commenter on someone else’s behalf and trying to stir up sympathy with vague threats of suicide or O.D.? All so you can win a five-year-old argument by pretending to be other people responding to you?

What the fuck is your problem?!

At present, all of this person’s comments have been removed, both under the fake names and the one they had been using regularly to comment on posts. Their ISP has been blocked and they are no longer welcome to comment on this site.

Again, I can’t believe I have to say this but this kind of behavior isn’t okay. It’s weird. It’s ghoulish. And it appears freakishly obsessive, considering the age of the original posts. Tez does pay attention to these things, she does bring it to me when weird shit happens, and people do get blocked.

I guess I should have clearly stated this “don’t talk to yourself and insinuate that commenters were so mean to someone five years ago that it’s killing her now” rule a long time ago. But here the fuck we are.

How many Jesuses is too many Jesuses?: An Interlude

FADE IN

INTERIOR – BEDROOM – DAY. MR. JEN and JENNY are sitting in bed, looking at photos from Jenny’s Catholic grandmother’s house at Christmas.

JENNY

The first time you went to my grandma’s house, did you think it was one of those really religious houses?

Mr. Jen stares at Jenny with a mixture of incredulity and outrage.

JENNY

Well, I don’t know! I grew up in that culture. I don’t know how much religious stuff a house should have. Like, when you walk into her house, is that your first–

MR. JEN

It’s the first thing you notice! It’s the very first thing!

JENNY

And you go, this is one of those religious houses?

MR. JEN

Remember when we counted all the Jesuses on the first floor of your grandma’s house? How many were there?

JENNY

Fifty-two.

MR. JEN

Fifty-two! There are fifty-two Jesuses on that floor alone! And that’s just Jesus! There’s all kinds of other religious stuff!

JENNY

So, how many Jesuses is too many, then?

MR. JEN

Two!

JENNY

Wait, do you mean having two Jesuses is having too many Jesuses, or my grandma has two too many?

MR. JEN

What?

JENNY

Like, is fifty the limit and she’s two over?

Mr. Jen massages his forehead with both hands, humbled in defeat.

FADE OUT.

FIN.

Jealous Haters Book Club: Beautiful Disaster Chapter Four, “The Bet,” or “I hate these blurred lines. No. Seriously. I hate them.”

Before we start, I just want to say, Yes, I heard. I totally heard about E.L. James’s new book, and I’ve gotten many requests to add it to the Jealous Haters Book Club. I’m on the fence about running two selections at once, but I’m also filled with sick curiosity about what a non-stolen book from her is going to be like. Especially after what I read in the excerpt.

But right now, we have this other dumpster fire to put out.

We open with Parker staring at Abby during class:

America smiled and waved. “He’s already seen me. He’s still staring.”

I hestiated for a moment and then finally worked up enough courage to look in his direction. Parker was looking right at me, grinning.

So, he just stares and doesn’t talk to her, but he catches up with her after class.

“Don’t forget about the party this weekend.”

“I won’t,” I said, trying not to bat my eyes or do anything else ridiculous.

You know. Anything else girly that girls do.

I like that she has to try not to do those things. It means she’s fully aware that it’s something some people, including her, do naturally and have to actively concentrate on not doing. Therefore, it isn’t the batting eyes that’s an issue, but the fact that the girls don’t force themselves not to be girly. Or, she may still think it’s a contrived behavior, in which case she’s saying here that she had to fight the urge to engage in deceptive body language because she had that urge in the first place.

American mentions in front of Travis and Shepley that Parker had been staring at Abby.

“Who was it?” Travis grimaced.

I adjusted my backpack, prompting Travis to slide it off my arms and hold it. I shook my head. “Mare’s imagining things.”

You just saw this happen, reacted positively to the exchange, and now you’re gonna call your friend a liar right in front of her?

Travis’s expression twisted into disgust. “Parker Hayes?”

Let me guess. He’s a rapist and you have to do something drastic to protect her.

They all go to lunch, and Travis won’t sit by Abby.

Instead, he sat a few seats down. It was then that I realized he hadn’t said much during our walk to the cafeteria.

“Are you okay, Trav?” I asked.

“Me? Fine, why?” he said, smoothing the features of his face.

Huh? What does that even mean? Smoothing the features of his face? Do you mean he relaxed a scowl or something? I mean, I already figured he was scowling when he decided to pull his petty, “I’m not gonna sit by you and you can guess what’s wrong” move. All I can think of is stock footage of a hotel maid meticulously smoothing the wrinkles out of a duvet while someone does a voice over about luxury.

Some football players come up and sit at their table.

Chris Jenks tossed a french fry onto Travis’s tray. “What’s up, Trav? I heard you bagged Tina Martin. She’s been raking your name through the mud today.”

Again, I find myself fully perplexed that this guy has a reputation for having sex with women and callously tossing them aside, but they’re still sleeping with him. Why? Is it because of all those books out there that tell women that if a man mistreats them, it’s an invitation to save him?

I bet that’s why. It’s a good thing this book isn’t like that at all.

I leaned forward so the brawny giant sitting in front of Travis could experience the full force of my glare. “Knock it off, Chris.”

Travis’s eyes bored into mine. “I can take care of myself, Abby.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I don’t want you to be anything,” he snapped, shoving away from the table and storming out the door.

Now, obviously, he’s angry because she talked to another guy or has an interest in another guy. But of course, Abby has no clue what’s going on with him.

Shepley shrugged and turned his attention to his plate. “You should know by now that it takes patience and a forgiving attitude to be friends with Travis. He’s his own universe.”

That’s called a one-sided friendship. In order to be friends with Travis, you have to be willing to do all the work so that he can continue being self-absorbed?

I shook my head. “That’s the Travis everyone else sees…not the Travis I know.”

That is literally every single iteration of Travis we have seen on the page so far.

Shepley leaned forward. “There’s no difference. You just have to ride the wave.”

No! No, she doesn’t! Nobody does! These people are the most horrible people I’ve ever read about. I know I say that every time we start a new book, but Jesus Christ!

Travis is not that valuable. There are billions of people in this world. You guys don’t have to cling to Travis! And if you do keep clinging to Travis, it’s not like he’s going to magically stop being a douchebag. The fact that you’re all making excuses for his behavior and automatically forgiving him without him ever apologizing or making any effort to treat any of you better is a huge “red flag”.

By the way, over the weekend, someone sent me a link to a blog post the author wrote to explain her inspiration for Beautiful Disaster. I’m not going to link it here, because it will ping back to her site and she is well-known for siccing her minions upon anyone who dares criticize her, but the gist was basically that she had a crush on a guy in college and ran into him some years later when, horror of horrors, she wasn’t wearing makeup and her hair looked sloppy. This made her cry, and she was inspired to drop everything and write this epic “romance”…which she originally titled Red Flag.

The name of the book was Red Flag. That’s the title she chose. And it wasn’t a red flag that she either shouldn’t publish this trash or take a real, real deep look at why she would even want to write about a character like this in the first place.

So, I wanna talk about this. Real, real big time. In the book, the supporting characters are gaslighting Abby hard by telling her that she can never expect Travis to act like a decent human being and implying that she’s somehow not a good friend if she expects otherwise. And the author is gaslighting the reader with her constant insistence that Travis is totally not exhibiting the abusive and manipulative behavior she’s writing. I’m just boggled by this. It’s like she’s looking every reader in the eye directly and saying, “Don’t trust what you’re reading. Trust what I’m using the heroine to tell you.”

Is it really that hard to write love interests who aren’t abusive monsters? I do it literally all the time.

So, after class, Abby goes back to her dorm, where–SIKE! she goes to Travis’s apartment.

I went into his room and curled into a ball on his bed, resting my head on my arm. Travis had been fine that morning. As much time as we had spent together, I couldn’t believe I didn’t see something had been bothering him.

I can’t believe you didn’t see that he didn’t get surly until you started talking about another guy, but the entire plot so far seems predicated upon The Big Misunderstanding, which requires Abby to be completely oblivious to point of unbelievable stupidity and an alarming lack of situational awareness to “work”.

Not only that, it disturbed me that America seemed to know what was going on and I didn’t.

So, I’m split on this America thing. Because she has been telling Abby what’s going on since practically the beginning of the book. However, I can’t be Team America: Story Police because of her actions in the next scene. After Abby falls asleep, she wakes to hear both America and Shepley reassuring Travis that all of his behavior toward Abby that day was totally fine:

“Abby gets it, Trav. Don’t beat yourself up,” Shepley said.

Yeah, Travis. Don’t feel bad about your shitty behavior. Abby has learned to roll with it. You’re safe to just keep on being a bastard.

“You’re already going to the date party. What’s the harm in asking her out?” America asked.

Friends don’t let friends date Travis Maddox. America has seen first hand the way Travis treats women. Why would she want her best friend to be treated that way?

I stiffened, waiting for his response. “I don’t want to date her; I just want to be around her. She’s…different.”

“Different how?” America asked, sounding irritated.

“She doesn’t put up with my bullshit, it’s refreshing. You said it yourself, Mare; I’m not her type. It’s just not…like that with us.”

First of all, Travis, Abby absolutely puts up with every little bit of your bullshit. She is one of the few friends you have, despite you somehow being Mr. Popularity. And it’s been established two pages ago that putting up with your bullshit is a requirement for your friendship.

Again, here’s the author saying, “Don’t believe all that other stuff I wrote. Only believe what the characters are saying out loud.”

Writing Tip: Speaking of what the characters are saying out loud, please note Travis’s somewhat repetitive dialogue pattern. Now, I’m 100% a champion of the ellipses. But ending two paragraphs of the same character’s dialogue with the exact same sentence structure is a little bit jarring. “I don’t want to date her; I just want to be around her. She’s…different,” and, “You said it yourself, Mare; I’m not her type. It’s just not…like that with us,” have the same punctuation and structure, so they stick out. If you find yourself in a position where you’re like, “I have to write these lines this way,” just throw on a dialogue tag so you don’t have two paragraphs close together with the exact same pattern.

Abby comes out of Travis’s room and says hi to everyone who was just talking about her, rather than bringing the discussion about her own life to her.

Travis stared at me for a moment, and when I smiled at him, he walked straight toward me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me down the hall to his bedroom. He shut the door, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest, bracing for him to say something else to crush my ego.

“I braced myself for the hero to make me feel like shit.”

Travis does initially own that his behavior was shitty and he apologizes for it, but the abuse-as-romance narrative can’t continue if he doesn’t give an excuse.

“I wasn’t mad at you. I just have a bad habit of lashing out at those I care about. It’s a piss-poor excuse, I know, but I am sorry,” he said, enveloping me in his arms.

Hey, you know what you should do with that habit? Fucking break it, rather than expect everyone to just put up with it.

Now, Abby, who has just heard her friends counseling Travis to ask her out, still has no clue what upset Travis. She has yet to put two and two together, so I guess it’s great news that she’s not a criminal justice major or something.

So, this is obviously the part where a good friend might suggest that Travis should stop lashing out at people he cares about and that if he truly cared about her the way he claims to, his apology would include, “And I’m going to work on that.”

But it doesn’t. Instead, Abby says:

“I can handle your temper tantrums.”

Feel free to continue to be a deeply infected pilonidal sinus, Travis. Abby will suck it up and learn to adjust, like so many heroines of ’10s “romances”.

So, of course, Travis accepts these conditions:

“I don’t know why you put up with me, and I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”

By turning Abby’s willingness to be a doormat into an admirable character trait for which he praises her, Travis is training her to accept his bad behavior. She’s like a dog being given the treat of his affection for exhibiting the correct behavior.

So, Travis’s phone rings and it’s a call about a fight.

He quickly tapped in the information, sending exclusive text invitations to those who knew about the Circle. Those ten or so members would text ten members on their list, and so on, until every member knew exactly where the floating fight ring would be held.

I mean, basically, everyone is going to know where the fight is, because super secret fight club is open information to everyone, even from out of town.

The air in the apartment was tense and buoyant at the same time. Travis seemed the least affected, slipping on his boots and a white tank top as if he were leaving to run an errand.

Is he supposed to get dressed up? You gotta wear clothes you’re not going to get blood on.

America says:

“You have to change, Abby. You can’t wear that to the fight.”

And she gives her an outfit that looks like this:

I pulled on the deep-cut yellow halter top and tight low-rise jeans America had thrown at me, and then slipped on a pair of heels, raking a brush through my hair as I shuffled down the hall.

And Travis says:

“Oh, hell no. Are you trying to get me killed? You’ve gotta change, Pidge.”

America argues that Abby looks cute, but:

Travis took my hand and led me down the hall. “Get a T-shirt on…and some sneakers. Something comfortable.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’ll be more worried about who’s looking at your tits in that shirt instead of Hoffman,” he said, stopping at his door.

A FEW GOD DAMN DING DANG NOTES HERE:

Anybody else notice how Abby never makes any of her own choices? Everyone tells her what to do and she just goes along with it. This is another hallmark of ’10s New Adult romance. If the heroine makes a choice, that might make the reader think things about her if they don’t agree with those choices. It’s so much easier to defend Abby and Ana Steele if you can immediately jump to, “THAT’S NOT HER FAULT [character] MADE HER DO IT!” So, we’re stuck with a lot of heroines who just have things happen to them so that the reader can never disagree with them.

Also, can we please remember that trying to control how you dress is a warning sign for abuse? And he’s yet again doing it to “protect” her, with a side of, “you’re going to negatively affect me if you don’t do as I say.” We’re clearly meant to take, “I will lose the fight if you wear that because I will feel so protective of you,” as a romantic declaration. But it’s possessive and creepy, especially considering his constant claims that he’s not romantically interested in Abby.

Travis looked down at my chest and then up at me. “You can’t wear this to the fight, so please…just…please just change,” he stuttered, shoving me into the room and shutting me in.

Sometimes I feel like I can’t adequately point out abusive behavior in these books because I can’t come down to a level where I can understand the mindset that would find this shit romantic and that leaves me with absolutely no idea how to approach it. This is one of those cases. Like, it should be obvious to every woman on the planet that a hero who tells you that you’re dressed too provocatively and you’re not allowed to leave the house that way, then actually shuts you in a room until you acquiesce (which Abby does immediately, putting on a t-shirt and sneakers and pulling her hair into a ponytail) is abusive. But it’s not. And that makes me want to burn down an Arby’s.

This is also a way that abusers knock down their partner’s confidence. Making them dress in sloppy clothes so they don’t attract sexual attention from other people is a sign of extreme possession and lack of trust. If a guy is doing this before he’s even dating a girl, do you really think it’s going to get better once he feels he has a claim over her?

Spoiler: it doesn’t. Ever. Not once in the history of abusive relationships.

Once Travis is happy with her outfit, he and Abby jump helmetless onto his bike and roar off to the fight. When they get there, Travis tells her they can’t go in the way everyone else is. Oh no, they have to go in through a window, so he can make his big entrance. And this pisses me off so much because he could have just said, “You might want to put on something like a t-shirt because we’re going to crawl through a window.”

He also could have just let her walk in with America and Shepley, who use the door. But then we wouldn’t have gotten the scene where she clumsily falls through the window and perfectly into his arms. Oh, and so he can protect her:

“They went in the other way. Just follow me out; I’m not sending you into that shark pit without me. […]”

Shark…pit?

Like…

A pit. But with sharks in it?

Shark pit.

PIT OF SHARKS DOOT DOO DOOT DOO DOO DOOT DOO DOOT DOO DOO DOOT DOO

Travis tells Abby that the guy he’s fighting is from another school, which has its own secret underground fighting ring. Because why not. Abby expresses concern about Travis getting injured.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I won’t let him touch me. I won’t even let him get one in for the fans.”

“How are you going to manage that?”

He shrugged. “I usually let them get one in–to make it look fair.”

So, it’s unfair then?

Travis Maddox has 100% lost a board game or a foot race and said, “I let you win.”

“How much fun would it be if I just massacred someone and they never got a punch in? It’s not good for business, no one would bet against me.”

But they’re not betting on how many punches you guys take. They’re betting on who wins the fight, and we’ve already heard over and over that you not only never lose, but you rarely get hit at all.

So, Abby calls him out for sounding way too confident, and he says:

“Would you like to make a wager on that, Abby Abernathy?” he smiled, his eyes animated.

You can’t smile a sentence.

“If you win, I’ll go without sex for a month.” I raised an eyebrow and he smiled again. “But if I win, you have to stay with me for a month.”

“What? I’m staying with you anyway! What kind of bet is that?” I shrieked over the noise.

“They fixed the boilers at Morgan today,” Travis said with a smile and a wink.

Okay, so, a few things. It took them two weeks to fix the boilers? The entire dorm was without hot water for a full two weeks and there were no on-campus alternatives?

Another thing: you’re probably going, “But if she’s staying with him, it’s not like he’s going to be having sex with anyone, anyway.”

They go into the fight and Abby tells Adam she wants to put “two” on Travis. Two dollars? Two hundred dollars? What the fuck does “two” mean? I really seriously wanted Travis to lose the fight and have Abby find out that “two” meant “two thousand,” but obviously, that’s not the case.

Anyway, Adam says:

“You’re not the Goody Two-shoes I thought you were,” he said, giving me a once-over.

Adam has never met Abby. I went back and searched the whole book. The only time he’s even close to her is when she first meets Travis and Adam comes up and leads Travis away. They’ve never interacted. How does he even know who she is?

So, there’s a fight. It’s meh.

Instead of attacking, Travis took a few steps back. Brady swung, and Travis dodged to the right. Brady swung again, and Travis ducked and sidestepped to the other side.

“What the hell? This ain’t a boxing match, Travis!” Adam yelled.

It’s not a boxing match? What the fuck are they doing?

Both men were covered in sweat, and I gasped when Brady missed another punch, slamming his hand into a cement pillar.

I hope he’s still on his parent’s insurance because that fucker is broken.

When he folded over, cradling his fist beneath him, Travis went in for the kill.

He was relentless, first bringing his knee to Brady’s face and then pummeling him over and over until Brady stumbled and hit the ground. The noise level boomed as Adam left my side to throw the red square on Brady’s bloodied face.

Travis absolutely didn’t have to knock this guy out. Dude had just broken his hand and was all folded over in agony, and Travis doesn’t even bother to give him like, a warning punch and a chance to tap out. It’s just, oh, this guy just broke his hand, better beat him into unconsciousness. Like, to me, this isn’t a fair fight. I don’t remember the rules stating that one fighter had to be knocked out for there to be a winner. What is the point of showing the love interest going “in for the kill” when the person he’s fighting isn’t fighting back?

Anyway, there’s way too much description about how crowded it is as she tries to leave and her and Travis getting separated, etc. They do eventually catch up to each other to have this conversation:

“You’re really going to make me stay with you for a month?”

“Would you have made me go without sex for a month?”

You’re the one who came up with the terms there, buddy. But yes, now it’s officially a “…and there was only one bed!” fic.

They crawl back out the window rather than using the door (I don’t know, either):

The monkey grass that lined the sidewalk waved in the gentle breeze, reminding me of the sound the ocean makes when I wasn’t quite close enough to hear the waves breaking.

Bitch, you’re from Nebraska.

Also, I love the way it’s worded so that the waves don’t make that sound if she’s not there.

“Why on earth would you want me to stay with you, anyway?” I asked.

So he can micromanage every part of your life, Pidge.

Travis shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know. Everything’s better when you’re around.”

GOSH I DON’T KNOW WHY TRAVIS IS ALWAYS SO UPSET IF I TALK TO OTHER GUYS HE TOTALLY DOESN’T LIKE ME WE’RE NOT LIKE THAT I WONDER WHY HE REACTED THAT WAY BECAUSE HE DOESN’T LIKE ME WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK HE LIKES ME BECAUSE HE DEFINITELY DOESN’T GOLLY I WISH I COULD FIGURE OUT THIS PUZZLE OF A MYSTERIOUS, SEXY MAN.

They go to the dorm to get Abby’s stuff.

I breezed by Kara, who studied on her bed, held captive by the textbooks that surrounded her.

Isn’t it weird how Kara is only ever surrounded by books or doing homework on her computer? She never goes anywhere, she just sits there studying. What if she’s a ghost haunting the room and that’s why she can’t leave? And she’s studying because she’s caught in some kind of loop where she doesn’t realize she’s dead?

“Travis, this is my roommate, Kara Lin. Kara, Travis Maddox.”

Oh. Okay. She’s not a ghost. She’s Chinese. Just a Chinese character who studies constantly and who the white girls call a bitch.

This chapter is really super long because there is way too much filler. Stuff like, “How do we get your stuff back to the apartment” turns into a whole scene about calling Shepley and him arriving and them putting the bags in the car and walking back to the motorcycle and it’s like, come the fuck on, just do a section break and be like, “After we picked up my things,” and have them right back at the apartment. Do authors seriously have no clue how much this little bullshit between scenes undercut the important parts? We got no reaction at all from Abby as to how she feels about him winning the bet. There’s no tension or urgency, she’s not thinking gosh, do I want him to win or do I want to win, there’s none of that. It goes:

They make the bet
He fights
He wins the bet
They go get her stuff and he meets Kara
They get on his motorcycle

It needed to be:

They make the bet
He fights, while every swing makes Abby question her feelings
He wins the bet and Abby questions how she feels about that
Section break
They arrive at the apartment and Abby has more feelings.

Abby never has any feelings. We’re just watching her walk through actions without much internal reaction. She just…there. Having things happen to her.

At least there are some thoughts in her head as they ride the motorcycle. Of course, since they never wear helmets, those thoughts will probably get smeared all over the pavement.

At every stoplight, Travis would either cover my hands with his, or he would rest his hand on my knee. The lines were blurring again, and I wondered how we would spend a month together and not ruin everything. The loose ends of our friendship were tangling in a way I never imagined.

And they’re not particularly enlightening thoughts. They’re just more indication that she’s not super observant.

Inside the apartment, America makes more incredibly unsubtle jokes about Travis and Abby being a couple, because Travis seems so happy. Travis reminds her that he just won a lot of money in a fight.

“No, it’s something else,” she said, watching Travis’s hand as he patted my thigh. She was right; he was different. There was an air of peace around him, almost as if some kind of new contentment had settled into his soul.

The lines aren’t so much blurred as completely erased, then? Also, this is showing, rather than telling. What makes him seem more peaceful? Is his usual scowl relaxed? Does he seem less restless or fidgety? Is he smiling instead of smirking? Give us some indication of his mood change.

Shepley tells America to cool it, but she keeps pressing the issue, once again bringing up Parker’s interest in Abby.

America’s mouth spread into a mischievous grin, almost bobbing in anticipation. “He said he’d see you there, though. He’s really cute.”

And of course, this leads to Travis demanding to know if Abby plans to go to the party or not.

I already didn’t like America, but I’m liking her even less now. Earlier that day, she saw Travis throw a tantrum that hurt Abby’s feelings because of this very subject. Now, she’s looking to cause another fight? Another blowup? What is the point of constantly pressing the issue if she knows that the person who’s going to end up hurt in all this is Abby?

Anyway, Abby says she’s going to the party and asks Travis if he is. When he confirms he’ll be there, Shepley says:

“You said last week you weren’t.”

“I changed my mind, Shep. What’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled, retreating to his bedroom.

America frowned at Travis. “You know what the problem is,” she said. “Why don’t you quit driving him crazy and just get it over with?”

America and Shepley are terrible. Like, seriously, they are angry that Travis and Abby won’t get together? Since when is it their fucking business? I get that Shepley is afraid that Travis’s behavior will ruin things between him and America. And clearly, Shepley and America aren’t on the same page as to whether or not Abby and Travis dating would even be a good idea. But you know who’s fault all this is? Everyone involved in this situation. Travis behaves badly and everyone around him enables him with their constant, unconditional forgiveness. Then, when he hurts them with his shitty behavior, that’s when they get riled up.

“Well, I’m glad everyone else knows,” I said.

And then there’s Abby, the victim of her own selective obtuseness. It is obvious to the point of narrative excess that Travis likes her. She admitted in the scene before this that she feels the “lines are blurring” between her and Travis. The fact that Travis likes her is outlined in radium, and she’s still pretending to be in the dark because if she doesn’t, the lukewarm romantic tension is resolved within the first twenty percent of the novel.

America goes after Shepley and they shut the door. While they’re in his room talking, Travis tells Abby that he wants to talk to her about something having to do with “us”…and then he goes to the bathroom.

I twisted my hair around my finger, mulling over the way he emphasized the word “us,” and the look on his face when he’d said it. I wondered if there had ever been lines at all, and if I was the only one who considered Travis and I just friends anymore.

This is the shit I’m talking about. How on earth is the author expecting us to think, “It’s reasonable that she’s not picking up these subtle hints?” No one has believed that you and Travis are “just friends” for the entire book. She is constantly having to correct every single character about her and Travis’s relationship being totally platonic. But only now it’s dawning on her that maybe people might think she and Travis are more than just friends? SHE HAS SAID MORE THAN ONCE THAT IT ANNOYS HER THAT EVERYONE THINKS SHE AND TRAVIS ARE MORE THAN JUST FRIENDS.

We’re supposed to forget all of that because if we didn’t, the author couldn’t write the most laughable confrontation I’ve seen since Fifty Shades Darker:

Shepley burst out of his room, and America ran after him. “Shep, don’t!” she pleaded.

He looked back to the bathroom door, and then to me. His voice was low, but angry. “You promised, Abby. When I told you to spare judgment, I didn’t mean for you two to get involved! I thought you were just friends!”

America tries to tell Shepley that it won’t hurt their relationship if Abby and Travis get together. I haven’t read very far ahead, so I don’t know if it does, but I have this wild feeling that America and Shepley’s relationship will be affected. Either way, Shepley storms off again, and Travis is still in the bathroom, which gives America and Abby time to rehash the “you like him,” “no, we’re just friends,” routine that, believe me, is not getting painfully boring at all at this point. Abby tells America that she overheard Travis saying he wasn’t interested in her “that way” and America insinuates that Travis has previously told Shepley otherwise. Abby is like, well, if he really liked me, would he be bringing a new chick home every night? And would I be going on a date with another guy?

I’m not seeing things, Abby. You have spent almost every moment with him for the last month. Admit it, you have feelings for him.”

Let it go, Mare,” Travis says, tightening his towel around his waist.

America and I jumped at the sound of Travis’s voice, and when my eyes met his, I could see the happiness was gone.

How did Abby see that Travis tightened his towel around his waist if it’s his voice that alerted her to his presence? This sentence is ordered wrong. She has to jump and look at him before she sees him with the towel.

But I laughed so hard throughout this entire thing, because I was like, “Did Travis just hold out on confessing his feelings to Abby so he could go and do a massive shit, first?” and then it turned out that he went and took a shower and that made it even funnier; hang on, Abby, I have to conveniently leave so we can have a big misunderstanding because the author wants to write a slow burn story but has no interest in the scenes that would make it a slow burn. She just tells us that Abby and Travis have spent a lot of time together, but she doesn’t show it to us. She mentions it before she jumps to another melodramatic scene. It’s like, race, race, race, to get to the drama, then oh, shit, this plot is wrapping up too soon. What do I do to delay their romance a little bit more? I know! I’ll have something interrupt him right as he’s about to express his feelings to Abby…what could I use…aha! He’ll just get up and go take a shower instead. I mean, the perfect opportunity to wreck the moment was provided by Shepley bursting out of the room all pissed off. Instead, the author has Travis go, we need to talk, and then be like, yeah, hold that thought, though, because I’m going to take a shower.

Masterful.

Travis goes to his room and America says:

“You don’t need to go to that party to meet a guy, you’ve got one that’s crazy about you right here,” she said, leaving me alone.

Yeah. A guy who treats women like garbage and ruins his roommate’s relationships. Why would Abby not want to pursue him instead of the guy who doesn’t act like the world owes him and isn’t paying up?

An hour had passed when Travis came out of his room and down the hall. When he rounded the corner, I expected him to ask me to come to bed, but he was dressed and had his bike keys in his hand. His sunglasses were hiding his eyes, and he popped a cigarette in his mouth before grabbing the knob of the door.

Abby asks where he’s going, he just says, “out,” and Abby waits up for him until two in the morning before she goes to bed.

I had nearly fallen asleep when Travis’s motorcycle pulled into the parking lot. Two car doors shut shortly after, and then several pairs of footsteps climbed the stairs. Travis fumbled with the lock, and then the door opened. He laughed and mubled, and then I heard not one, but two female voices. Their giggling was interrupted by the distinct sounds of kissing and moaning. My heart sank, and I was instantly angry I felt that way. My eyes clenched shut when one of the girls squealed, and then I was sure the next sound was the three of them collapsing onto the couch.

So, Abby is trapped in Travis’s bedroom while this is going on. And since he goes to his room for condoms, he’s aware that Abby is still there. But he proceeds to have a very loud three-way, anyway:

Seconds later, moans, humming, and shouting filled the apartment. It sounded as if a pornographic movie were being filmed in the living room.

So,  he doesn’t even care if he wakes her up by loudly fucking two chicks. The girl he was about to confess his feelings for is in his bed, but he chooses to have a super rowdy threesome on his couch.

Whatever lines had blurred or disappeared in the last week, an impenetrable stone wall had gone up in their place. I shook off my ridiculous emotions, forcing myself to relax. Travis was Travis, and we were, without a doubt, friends and only friends.

Why would you even want to be friends with this guy? Tell me why. You have friends. You have a guy who’s interested in you who didn’t just bring two chicks back to his apartment and have sex on the couch while you couldn’t leave. This guy is gross.

The shouting and other nauseating noises quieted down after an hour, followed by whining, and then grumbling by the women after being dismissed.

They were whining and grumbling because their threesome only lasted an hour.

Travis takes a shower and gets in bed with Abby. And you’d think she’d be grossed out by the fact that he just fucked two chicks and got in bed with her, right? Not in an ew, gross, fluids! kind of way, but in a symbolic kind of angry way. But nope. This time, she’s more concerned about something else:

Even after his shower, he smelled like he’d drunk enough whiskey to sedate a horse, and I was livid that he’d driven his motorcycle home in such a state.

She had no problem with drunk driving in the last chapter. But if she doesn’t have a problem with it now, she has to blame her anger on Travis for choosing to have sex with those women. She can’t lay the blame for that on him, right? It’s the sluts’ fault he slept with them.

Abby goes to the living room and sleeps in the recliner, only to wake up and find Shepley and America on the couch watching TV with the sound off.

So, is this a pod people thing?

Shepley looked miserable. “I’m sorry about last night, Abby. This is my fault.”

HOW IS THIS YOUR FAULT? Did you go out and pick up two chicks and fuck them on the couch last night? Did you make Travis do that? Was it mind control?

America tells Abby she packed her things and can take her back to the dorm before Travis returns from the store. Where I assume he’s banging someone up against the milk coolers.

It wasn’t until that moment that I felt like crying; I had been kicked out. I worked to keep my voice smooth before I spoke. “Do I have time to take a shower?”

These people are the most shower-taking people I have ever read about. But this is what’s making you upset, Abby? Not the fact that Travis intentionally weaponized his sexual escapades against you? The fact that you won’t be staying in the same apartment for a month with the guy who intentionally weaponized his sexual escapades against you?

The good news is that Travis is “sweet”:

“When Pidge wakes up, let me know, okay?” he said in a soft voice. “I got spaghetti, and pancakes, and strawberries, and that oatmeal shit with the chocolate packets, and she likes Fruity Pebbles cereal, right, Mare?” he asked, turning.

When he saw me, he froze. After an awkward pause, his expression melted, and his voice was smooth and sweet. “Hey, Pigeon.”

I couldn’t have been more confused if I had woken up in a foreign country. Nothing made sense. At first I thought I had been evicted, and then Travis comes home with bags full of my favorite foods.

Okay, first of all, it was America, not Travis, who said you had to leave. So I don’t know what that part is about. But I do know what the food and the confusion are about: abusers manipulate their victims with patterns of hurt and comfort. He hurt her by having a loud threesome to prove he doesn’t like her. Then, he knew he fucked up, so he went out and bought this food in the hopes that once she sees that he’s noticed, IDK, basic, inconsequential details about her, she’ll be so won over by his thoughtfulness that all will be forgiven.

He goes on to offer to make her pancakes. And inform her that he also bought her “pink foamy shit” for shaving her legs and a hairdryer. Then he goes to his bedroom and sees that all of Abby’s stuff is packed up. He’s like, wait, whoa, you’re leaving? And America is like, fucking duh. I’m paraphrasing here, but that’s the gist. Travis tries to apologize, but America is not having it:

Travis took a step, but America pointed her finger at him. “So help me God, Travis! If you try to stop her, I will douse you with gasoline and light you on fire while you sleep!”

Which is all well and good, but let’s see how long it takes for her to go back to trying to get them to hook up. Because you know she’s going to be #TeamMaddox again soon.

“America,” Shepley said, sounding a bit desperate himself. I could see that he was torn between his cousin and the woman he loved, and I felt terrible for him. The situation was exactly what he had tried to avoid all along.

And the situation is 100% caused by Travis. The blame rests entirely on him. But nobody is going to say a damn thing. They’re going to keep covering for Travis. Especially Abby.

I rolled my eyes. “Travis brought women home from the bar last night, so what?”

America looked worried. “Huh-uh, Abby. Are you saying you’re okay with what happened?”

I looked to all of them. “Travis can bring home whoever he wants. It’s his apartment.”

Yup. Abby is gonna do whatever it takes to cover for Travis’s bad behavior. Just like everyone else in the book. And I’ve yet to figure out what the fuck it is that makes Travis so appealing that everyone is behaving this way.

Travis is like, wait, Abby, you didn’t pack your stuff? And she’s like, no, and now I have to unpack it all because apparently America trying to get her out of the toxic situation in the apartment was unacceptable or something. She goes into the bathroom and slides down to the floor thinking about how she promised Shepley her friendship with Travis wouldn’t break up him and America and like, again, how the fuck is this Abby’s responsibility at all?

The door vibrated with the soft bump of Travis’s forehead against it. “I don’t want you leave, but I wouldn’t blame you if you did.

(Just pausing here to say the missing word in this excerpt is in the text and not one of my patented typos.)

“Are you saying I’m released from the bet?”

There was a long pause. “If I say yes, will you leave?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t live here, silly,” I said, forcing a small laugh.

“Then no, the bet’s still in effect.”

I looked up and shook my head, feeling tears burn my eyes. I had no idea why I was crying, but I couldn’t stop.

Because you’re emotionally overloaded from being constantly manipulated by this dbag.

Through the door, she hears America call Travis and selfish bastard and like…America? You were the one pushing and pushing and pushing them, trying to smash them together like Barbies.

Because like, everyone showers all the time, Abby does that.

After another knock on the door, Travis cleared his throat. “Pigeon? I brought some of your stuff.”

“Just set it on the sink. I’ll get it.”

Travis walked in and shut the door behind him.

That is NOT what she asked you to do. Nor did she ask you to stroll in and throw this bullshit at her:

“I was mad. I heard you spitting out everything that’s wrong with me to America and it pissed me off. I just meant to go out and have a few drinks and try to figure some things out, but before I knew it, I was piss drunk, and those girls…” He paused. “I woke up this morning and you weren’t in bed, and when I found you on the recliner and saw the wrappers on the floor, I felt sick.”

First of all, dickass, she never said everything was wrong with you. She said she didn’t want to date you because you bring home a new girl every night and she’s not interested in that. Then, she defended your right to do that just minutes ago. She wasn’t pointing out a character flaw. She was stating a reason she didn’t want to date you.

It’s okay that she doesn’t want to date you.

Nobody should want to date you.

Especially when he’s trying to paint this whole thing as the fault of the girls he brought home. I was just going to go out and get stinking drunk. Then these girls… THEN THESE GIRLS WHAT, TRAVIS? FORCED YOU TO HAVE A THREESOME TO SPITE ABBY?

But it’s cool, everybody. He feels really bad about it.

I cringed at his explanation. I hadn’t stopped to think how it would make him feel to hear me talk about how wrong for me he was, and now the situation was too messed up to salvage.

I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I said, standing under the water.

You know what? I’m not even going to comment on how yet again, people are apologizing for Travis’s shitty behavior. I’m gonna focus on the fact that…where was Abby standing before? She’s been in the shower this whole time.

“I know you didn’t. And I know it doesn’t matter what I say now, because I fucked things up…just like I always do.”

I caused you pain. Feel sorry for me, because I always cause everyone pain and it makes me feel sad. Not sad enough to stop causing people pain. It’s the accountability that hurts me.

But of course, it works. Abby tells him not to drive drunk anymore (but how will any of you get around if you have to drive sober?) and that’s the end of the chapter.

Hamster Venom: An Interlude

FADE IN:

INT. – BATHROOM – NIGHT. JENNY sits on the toilet while MR. JEN leans on the sink, examining a near-microscopic drop of blood at the tip of one finger.

JENNY

Oh my god. It’s a hamster bite. Let it go.

MR. JEN

I’m worried about the venom.

JENNY

Hamsters don’t have venom!

MR. JEN

Yes, they do. Much like their natural predator the king cobra–

JENNY

There is no “much like” between hamsters and king cobras! They’re nothing alike! You have to really, really generalize that down to like, “they both have eyes!” to find any similarity. Hamsters are not venomous! Plus, I’m not even sure that hamsters and king cobras exist in the wild together. I told you already that the hamster is evil and bitey and you stuck your hand in there, anyway.

MR. JEN

He’s not evil!

JENNY

He runs at me to bite me! I can be opening the door to put food in his cage and he will charge at me and bite me!

MR. JEN

He likes me.

JENNY

He bit you! And now you’re worried about his venom!

MR. JEN

Hamsters bite to show their affection. [beat] Much like the king cob–

JENNY

Get out.

 

FADE OUT

FIN

The Big Damn Buffy Rewatch: S04E06, “Wild At Heart”

In every generation, there is a chosen one. She alone just figured out that she never changed the profanity in the following list back after the great The Good Place swears filter debacle. She will also recap every episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer with an eye to the following themes:

Sex is the real villain of the Buffy The Vampire Slayer universe.
Giles is totally in love with Buffy.
Joyce is a fucking terrible parent.
Willow’s magic is utterly useless (this one won’t be an issue until season 2, when she gets a chance to become a witch)
Xander is a textbook Nice Guy.
The show isn’t as feminist as people claim.
All the monsters look like wieners.
If ambivalence to possible danger were an Olympic sport, Team Sunnydale would take the gold.
Angel is a dick
Harmony is the strongest female character on the show.
Team sports are portrayed in an extremely negative light.
Some of this shit is racist as fuck.
Science and technology are not to be trusted.
Mental illness is stigmatized.
Only Willow can use a computer.
Buffy’s strength is flexible at the plot’s convenience.
Cheap laughs and desperate grabs at plot plausibility are made through Xenophobia.
Oz is the Anti-Xander
Spike is capable of love despite his lack of soul
Don’t freaking tell me the vampires don’t need to breathe because they’re constantly out of frickin’ breath.
The foreshadowing on this show is freaking amazing.
Smoking is evil.
Despite praise for its positive portrayal of non-straight sexualities, some of this shirt is homophobic as fuck.
How do these kids know all these outdated references, anyway?
Technology is used inconsistently as per its convenience in the script.
Sunnydale residents are no longer shocked by supernatural attacks.
Casual rape dismissal/victim blaming a-go-go
Snyder believes Buffy is a demon or other evil entity.
The Scoobies kind of help turn Jonathan into a bad guy.
This show caters to the straight/bi female gaze like whoa.
Sunnydale General is the worst hospital in the world.
Faith is hyper-sexualized needlessly.
Slut shame!
The Watchers have no fucking clue what they’re doing.
Vampire bites, even very brief ones, are 99.8% fatal.
Economic inequality is humorized and oversimplified.
Buffy is an abusive romantic partner.
Riley is the worst.
Joss Whedon has a problem with fat people.
Spike is an abusive romantic partner.
Why are all these men so terrible?
Wicca doesn’t work like that.
Alcohol is evil.
Head trauma doesn’t work like that.

Have I missed any that were added in past recaps? Let me know in the comments.  Even though I might forget that you mentioned it.

WARNING: Some people have mentioned they’re watching along with me, and that’s awesome, but I’ve seen the entire series already and I’ll probably mention things that happen in later seasons. So… you know, take that into consideration, if you’re a person who can’t enjoy something if you know future details about it.

Listen.

Fuck this episode.

Fuck this storyline, fuck the way they fuck over both Willow and Oz in it.

Fuck this whole thing right into the garbage.

Look, it’s not that I don’t understand that actors sometimes want to leave long-running shows to do other things. I get that. And it’s not that I have a problem with Willow figuring out that she’s a lesbian (though the way her self-realization/coming out is written to cater to the nebulous idea straight people have of what they imagine the experience would be like for themselves). What I hate about this episode is how sloppy the execution of the end of the Willow/Oz relationship is and how much better it could have been.

So, I guess let’s get on with this lazy bullshit.

Lots of students are hanging out on campus at night, the way you probably should do if you live in Sunnydale where all the vampires are? Buffy goes tearing through a crowded area, pursued by a vampire. She gets him away from the other students before she stops and squares off against him, thanking him for relocating. They fight while she quips,

Buffy: “You know very well, if you eat this late, you’re gonna get heartburn.”

She stakes him and while he’s in his death throes, asks:

Buffy: “Get it? Heartburn? That’s it? That’s all I get. One lame-ass vamp with no appreciation for my painstakingly thought out puns. I don’t think the forces of darkness are even trying.”

As she wanders off muttering to herself about how her humor goes unappreciated, we pan up to Spike, watching from a, I don’t know, rooftop garden? Some kind of upper level that still has trees and a yard. Anyway, he monologues about how the big bad is back and she’s in trouble, standard Spike stuff. But he’s so busy bragging to no one about how awesome he is, he doesn’t notice that he’s been surrounded by the shadowy commando force that’s been plaguing monsters so far this season. They taze him and drag him off.

After the credits, Willow, Xander, Buffy, and Oz are at The Bronze, which they all agree is a much more fun place to be as college students than as high school students. Willow suggests that it’s because it’s a familiar oasis in the totally new world of their lives as college kids, and it’s nice to be somewhere “predictable.”

Then Giles shows up. And since we’re going for predictable, everyone assumes he’s there because there’s trouble. But he’s just there to hang out. He even offers to buy them coffees.

Buffy: “So much for your predictable blankie theory, Wil.”

Now, it’s not that Giles isn’t an important and valuable part of the Scoobie gang. He’s just not an under-twenty part of the Scoobie gang, and they’re still all trying to figure out how he fits into their lives as a peer and not an authority figure now that they’re out of high school and he’s no longer Buffy’s Watcher. And bless him, he tries:

Giles: “Splendid. Well, it’s ages since I’ve been to a gig. Well, don’t look that way. I’m, I’m down with the new music. And I have the albums to prove it.”

Buffy: “Yes, but it’s your cutting edge eight-tracks that keeps you ahead of the scene.”

Excuse me, Buffy, but a man like Giles never had an eight-track player, no matter how attractive portable music might have been. The sound quality was truly a step down from vinyl and he would absolutely never have compromised. Do you even watch your own show, young lady?

Oz defends Giles by sticking up for his music collection, and Willow says it’s “brave” of Giles to be there. I love this because as the years have passed, I identify with Giles more than any other character. Youths. Fuck them.

So, Veruca’s band takes the stage and once again, Oz is totally captivated by her. I don’t know whose idea it was for her to like, whiplash and serpentine her whole body the entire time she’s singing. And I don’t know what happened to this actress/singer when her gig on Buffy was over. But sure as God made little green apples, I know she’s spent some quality time at the chiropractor.

The worst part about this shit show is that Buffy picks up on Willow’s humiliation at her boyfriend’s all-consuming attraction to another girl. Giles and Xander are totally into Veruca, too, though, so they don’t notice that Willow is sitting there in pain. But we cut to the next morning, where Oz and Willow are snuggling in bed. And they’re so cute. And their relationship is still somewhat healthy, even with his weird Veruca thing.

Willow tells Oz about a Wicca group she’s wanting to check out. She tells him it’s on one of the nights he’ll be affected by the full moon and asks him if it’s okay that he’ll have to lock himself up.

Oz: “The only thing I mind is being away from you for three nights.”

We’re gonna go from that to “goodbye forever” by the end of the episode. Fuck this episode.

At psych class, the only class Buffy ever attends, I guess, Professor Walsh tells Buffy that due to her awesome work on a paper she did, she’ll lead a discussion group at the next class. And then Buffy asks her, you know, what she’s supposed to do to prepare to lead a discussion group and Walsh brushes her off onto her teaching assistants. Because teaching is too much work for the person who became a teacher.

Have I mentioned how much I hate Maggie Walsh? For years, I’ve struggled over whether it’s internalized misogyny causing me to hate a character who’s a strong woman, but…I’m pretty sure I hate her because she’s such a horrible teacher and also she tries to get Buffy killed.

Buffy shows Willow the grade she got on her paper:

Willow: “This is good! I mean, this is excellent. You did better than me. This is so unfair! You made me jealous of you academically! Buffy!”

Buffy: “I know, can you believe it?”

Willow: “Wow, I guess Professor Walsh isn’t so ogre-y after all.”

No, she’s still an ogre. It’s not Professor Walsh who did the work or changing here, it’s Buffy. But some of Willow’s perhaps unintentional and subconscious down-grading of Buffy’s success could be due to the jealousy she fully admits, especially once she learns about the discussion group opportunity. And I really like the way this scene is handled. Willow’s identity has pretty much always been built around her academic achievements. It makes sense that she would be threatened. But look at what an amazing friend she is! She admits to her jealousy but immediately goes back to being happy for Buffy. She doesn’t hide her feelings from her, but she doesn’t allow them to poison their bond with unnecessary competition.

Oz runs into Veruca as he crosses campus. He’s looking for a place to meet Willow and uses that as an excuse to not sit with her. Veruca points out that there are two chairs available at her table, and Oz sits down. And then he makes a comment about Veruca’s “big lunch” which is literally a normal-sized hamburger (which actually looks more like a veggie patty, on closer inspection) and what I’m comfortable in calling an objectively unsatisfying amount of fries. In the first place, Oz, mind your damn business. In the second place, time to make me hate Veruca even more:

Veruca: “I like to eat. I hate chicks who are like, ‘does it have dressing on it’?”

Hey, look. Not Like Other Girls. The eating thing has always mystified me. I realize there are women out there who are always on a diet, but why is that like…acceptable to be annoyed by? If someone’s getting on your case about going on a diet or offering unwanted advice, that’s annoying. But the mere existence of people who count calories or shun dressing doesn’t really hurt anyone if they’re keeping it to themselves. And for a slender girl like Veruca to make fun of girls for “not eating”…like, what the fuck. Seriously, way to feed into the whole “hot girls are even hotter if they eat like Kirby and never worry about their weight…so long as they stay hot,” Buffy writers. (#6) (#39)

Oz tells Veruca that her band was really good and they start to talk about amps. Willow arrives and sees them chatting together. Veruca is friendly-ish, Oz is awkward, and then they go back to talking about amps, totally excluding Willow. When the name “Hound Dog” comes up, she’s relieved that they’re talking about something she knows and jumps in to say how much she likes Elvis. Veruca smugly runs with it until Oz tells Willow:

Oz: “We’re actually talking amps. But it’s easy to get confused. The names they give ’em.”

Then Oz gets up and leaves Willow alone with Veruca. Who makes this face:

The international “I’m better than you and your man is already mine” signal.

Veruca says she has to leave, too, makes a comment about Willow’s top that is probably not genuine, and poor Willow is left all alone in the place she came to specifically to meet up with her fucking boyfriend.

This episode is so painfully relatable. I think if you’ve ever been in a relationship that was ending, there’s a moment where you realize the end is near. I had an almost identical situation happen to me when I was dating a guy who was in a fairly popular local band. One night, we were at a bar, and he ran into this chick he knew but hadn’t seen around in a while. She sat down with us and they started talking about all these obscure bands that they were both way, way into. Finally, this chick says something about The Dead, and I’m like, oh, okay, the band Phil Lesh formed after Jerry Garcia died, I can totally talk about them! But they were talking about some obscure indie band. And it played out so like this scenario, with my date explaining apologetically and with such obvious second-hand embarrassment that I got second-hand embarrassment for myself.

Dude ended up ghosting me after that date. And then I ran into him at Meijer a couple weeks ago while I was grocery shopping with unbrushed hair. I was standing next to someone who had b.o. so bad they left a scent trail. He probably thought it was me. We made eye contact and he definitely, definitely recognized me, even seventeen years later. In my frantic flight to get the hell away, I knocked over a bunch of two-liter bottles of pop.

It was still less painful than this episode.

Buffy happens to walk by and sees Veruca leaving, so she sits down with Willow.

Willow: “How come you didn’t tell me I look like a crazy birthday cake in this shirt?”

Buffy: “I thought that was the point.”

Willow is worried about Oz thinking Veruca is sexy, but Buffy points out that checking out other women isn’t a bad sign. Now, here’s where I’m gonna get in trouble probably. And I want to make sure everyone is aware that when I come at the subject of Willow’s sexuality, I’m not out to erasing lesbian representation. Discussion about Willow’s sexuality contains some hard lines to walk when so many bisexual women identify with Willow’s experiences as well and have legitimate concerns about our erasure in the media. So, before I launch in:

Yes, Willow being an out lesbian on a TV show was groundbreaking and important and no, I’m not trying to yank Willow away from lesbians.
Yes, Willow absolutely identifies as a lesbian later in the show (though I’m not sure the word “lesbian” is ever actually uttered? She says she’s gay a lot, but now that I think of it, we need to be on “lesbian” watch as the show goes on because I don’t remember it ever being said and the words women use to label their sexuality are often erased or danced around), so she’s a lesbian
The above can both be true and her characterization and arc can be bi-erasure.

Nothing I say about Willow’s sexuality is me asserting that because a character is a lesbian instead of bi, bisexuality is being erased. Nor am I ever saying that lesbians don’t deserve media representation. I, and other bisexual women, just want that representation to come without a personal cost to ourselves. And that’s perfectly okay for us to discuss.

So, with the disclaiming out of the way, we have Willow saying:

Willow: “I mean, I have wrong feelings about other guys sometimes. But I feel guilty. I flog and punish.”

Willow maintained a years-long crush on Xander. She had a relationship with a “boy” who turned out to be an evil robot, but whom she assumed was male. She has discussed the hotness of boys with Buffy. She has a long-term boyfriend. These are all experiences that lesbians can have before they realize that they’re lesbians, and that’s not uncommon. This is all due to social conditioning and sometimes subconscious protective camouflage. But here we have Willow admitting that even though she’s in a relationship with Oz, she finds herself attracted to other men.

The (mostly straight, to my knowledge) writers of Buffy could have easily avoided bi-erasure with one single change to that line. “I have wrong feelings about other people sometimes.” Later, when Willow falls for Tara, we could look back on that line and realize, hey, the clues were there all along. She said people because she meant women, too. And then, it’s a lot easier for us to accept that her awakening to her own sexuality was a gradual internal process and not, “My heart is broken by a man, so now I will be a lesbian.”

Buffy reassures Willow that Oz isn’t the kind of guy who cheats, and Willow takes comfort at the idea that Oz will be locked in a cage for a few nights, anyway, which is gonna make cheating hard. But without Willow there to make sure he’s locked in real good, you can guess what happens.

Yup.  He gets out. And he chases Professor Walsh, which is always fun. And then as he’s chasing her, surprise! A girl werewolf shows up!

You may be wondering how I know she’s a girl. Well, you see, it’s because she has long hair:

To borrow a phrase from Wayne from Letterkenny…

‘Kay. Just–

‘Kay. So–

‘Kay.

When Oz is a werewolf, he’s covered with kind of spikey fur and his face is definitely more messed up than this. I couldn’t get a good picture because he’s constantly in motion in this part. But he doesn’t look like Oz, he looks like a werewolf. Now, I know that it’s important for the audience to guess that this is Veruca. But as a member of the audience, I guarantee I would have already gotten that if another, lighter-colored werewolf just suddenly showed up on the scene. They’ve been foreshadowing some hypnotic connection between Oz and Veruca since her very first appearance. We didn’t necessarily need a pretty werewolf to get it across.

Anyway, the two werewolves lose total interest in Maggie and start wrestling with each other. Then we fade to the next morning, and Veruca and Oz waking up naked in the woods. So…not so much wrestling as like…mating.

I’ve always wondered how much this actually counted as cheating, to be honest. Oz isn’t Oz. He couldn’t remember eating a zombie in season three, FFS. In the beginning of this arc, he didn’t even know he was a werewolf, he could only suspect because he had no memory of the things he did while he was a wolf. We already know that he has no control over his actions in that form. How does this translate to cheating, if he’s not the one doing it? Veruca even acknowledges the fact that he can’t remember what happened between them, though she’s apparently been a werewolf long enough that she can now remember bits and pieces of her wolfy time.

Though Veruca seems to think they’re a done deal and wants to have sex again or something, Oz just wants to go home. He goes to the laundry facility in the dorm, where he gets dressed and the costumer just keeps Veruca in a bra and matching panties. You know. To really get across what an evil slut she is or something. Maybe I’m reading too much into that, but this isn’t a show where you tend to see a lot of skin. All of a sudden, Veruca is traipsing around campus wearing nothing at all and she’s the evil other woman? I’m calling #6 and #33.

Oz mentions that he needs to figure out how he got out of his cage, which disgusts Veruca.

Veruca: “God, somebody’s domesticated the hell out of you.”

Oz: “It’s my choice. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

Veruca: “Maybe. Or maybe you just don’t want to admit what happened to you. Maybe you just want to pretend you’re a regular guy.”

Oz: “Well, I am. I’m only a wolf three nights a month.”

Veruca: “Or you’re the wolf all the time and this human face is just your disguise. You ever think about that, Oz?”

And then she tries to get him to have sex with her again. He rejects her, and she goes off on a tangent about how nobody knows how to be alive and free and she could help him feel that way. He’s like, yeah, no thanks, I don’t feel like killing people.

Veruca: “You don’t understand. But you will. You’ll see that we belong together.”

Oz: “No. I know where I belong.”

Professor Walsh is walking with Riley, telling him all about these weird gorilla dogs she saw the night before. Buffy approaches with a question, but Walsh warns her about the dogs and Buffy is like, hey, nevermind, because she knows what gorilla dogs probably really are.

Willow goes to Oz’s dorm. She’s dressed a little differently than usual:

I’m including the picture here because I’m pretty sure that this exact outfit gets reused in season six. When I get there in five years, I want to be able to easily compare.

Anyway, Oz is super weird and Willow picks up on it. She apologizes for her own weirdness over Veruca, and Oz does what he can to try and change the subject without using more than two syllables at a time. He even tells her that she’s safe to stop thinking about Veruca. Willow tries to initiate sex with him, but he obviously can’t because he’s got visible scratches on his back.

Werewolves do it missionary style, I guess?

Willow is clearly hurt by his rejection, even though it’s gentle and honestly, understandable since he was being a werewolf the night before and would probably be legitimately tired from that, right? But still, she’s picking up the vibe.

Over at Giles’s house, because I always have to include some Gilesy goodness, he’s being so, so relatable:

The ill-fitting clothing. The crowded desk. The talking back to the television around a mouthful of food because he’s annoyed with the game show on the screen. It’s like someone took a picture of me at work and used it to stage an elaborate tableau of sadness.

Buffy shows up and he’s super excited to see her.

Giles: “You come on business, I hope?”

Buffy: “Yes. Lucky for you, people may be in danger.”

This poor dude is bored out of his gourd. Buffy tells him the deets about the two werewolves and he asks if she’s talked to Oz about it. There are two things about this that I feel are underappreciated. One, Buffy went to Giles first, when it would have been more geographically convenient to go to Oz first. Second, from a common sense perspective, it seems like Buffy should have gone to Oz first, right? But she reported to her Watcher, instead. This shows us that regardless of how Buffy has grown as a Slayer, she still needs her Watcher. This comes in as a plot point from here on out, and I feel like this exchange, specifically, wove the beginning of this issue into the story super effectively.

Buffy promises she’ll come back as soon as she talks to Oz. So…that’s the whole exchange.

That could have been a phone call.

Now, obviously, it wasn’t a phone call because phone calls are boring to watch and you need to get your principal cast on screen even if they’re not actively involved in the main plot of the episode. However, it does feel a little bit forced; there needed to be a better reason for Buffy to physically go to there. It’s a missed opportunity, too; what if she couldn’t get ahold of Giles on the phone because he’d been trying to win something on the radio and the phone was tied up? That would give us even more of a sense of how boring his days are. I wouldn’t even bother to point it out unless it was a missed opportunity because so much of this show exists in a world where there are apparently no phones at all.

Speaking of getting the core cast as much screentime as possible in an episode that doesn’t involve them, Willow goes to Xander’s house to tell him about what happened with Oz. We find Xander in a predicament of his own:

Xander: “We’re having a little landlord/tenant dispute, so I’m withholding rent. An effective and, might I add, thrifty tactic.”

Willow: “How come?”

Xander: “She won’t let me put a lock on my door. I suspect she’s afraid I’ll start having ‘the sex’.”

This is another area I’m going to call #36, because this kind of shit is a real issue and it only ever gets played for laughs. We’re supposed to think it’s funny that Xander can’t afford the privacy that adult humans require to live their lives. It’s not the fact that it’s included that chafes me, just the fact that it’s one more area where a real-life problem is funny, without acknowledging that this kind of ha ha, you’re poor thing is taking place on a show where much of the target demographic was probably living in multi-generational households for exactly the same reasons as Xander.

I mean, I’m not calling for anyone to be beheaded over it. I just think the fact that Xander’s entire purpose on the show in season four is to be the resident failure we’re supposed to laugh at because he comes from a less privileged economic background than the other characters is bullshit.

Willow asks Xander what it means if a guy doesn’t want to “you know,” and he points out (rightly) that if she’s having sex, she should be able to use the actual words to describe the act. So, you know, go Xander on that one. He tells Willow that it could be a bad sign, but it’s not necessarily true that it’s definitely bad. He asks for more background, and Willow tells him about the Veruca situation.

Xander: “Well, have you asked Oz about it?

Willow: “Well, I thought about it, but then he’ll think I’m all jealous and worried.”

Xander: “But you are. And odds are, he feels it. I bet that’s all there is to the weird you’re feeling. You guys should talk things out, Wil. You’ll both feel better.”

Why wasn’t there a subplot where Xander eventually became a therapist? Here’s the thing: most of the time, Xander’s personal behavior sucks hard. But he actually does give good advice and seems to understand human emotion and reaction from an outsider perspective better than the other characters seem to. Yet, it’s Buffy, who is a walking disaster in her own right, who ends up becoming a (not-degreed) guidance counselor in season seven. Man, how cool would it have been, and how much more would Xander have had to do in that season, if he’d ended up at Sunnydale High as part of a training thing because he was earning his degree?

I kind of wonder about the economic and educational backgrounds of the writers on this show. I’m not going to go look it all up, but the poverty representation is weird, regardless. Xander ends up as a construction worker, which is not at all the job I would have thought up when designing that character. He seems to end up doing manual labor because he’s poor and that’s about it. Like someone sat down and went, “What do poor people do?” and that’s the first thing that came up. But a lot of construction work requires vocational training or at least some experience, so it’s not as though he’s just going to stumble into a job in that field, right? And it’s not exactly unreasonable for someone to go to community college or weekend classes to slowly earn a degree. I guess I look at Xander and I see wasted potential as a character because I look at my own, very Xander-like post-high school situation and sympathize deeply with him.

Also, because working-class jobs are very much looked-down upon on this show. When Buffy has to get a job at a fast food place, it’s her absolute lowest point as a human being. At the same time, Willow and Tara are both fully unemployed throughout the entire series, and they’re depicted as having better and more meaningful lives going for them. Like, it’s better to be unemployed than it is to take a job that the writers feel is somehow beneath them.

Man, this was a tangent I wasn’t expecting from this episode.

Back to the show. Oz is welding his cage back together when Buffy finds him. He admits he got out, but claims he doesn’t know anything about another werewolf being around. Buffy senses that something is up with him, but he denies it again. There’s a montage of Oz and Willow looking sad cut with shots of Veruca rehearsing with her band and singing a song that consistently tricks me into thinking my phone is ringing. The sun is about to set and Oz is in his cage when Veruca comes by. She mocks his “habitrail” and refuses to get into the cage. He warns her that the Slayer is looking to hunt this other werewolf. Veruca accuses him of just wanting to be locked up with her all night. Then she gets all breathless and sexy and writhy talking about how she sensed him before she ever met him, and human Oz grabs her and kisses her. They do a weird Titanic hands thing as they change, and we cut to the next morning when Willow finds them naked and spooning.

After the commercial break, Oz wakes to find Willow standing there, heartbroken. Oz tries to gaslight her, saying he had to lock Veruca in the cage with him where they would have sex all night. It’s the only way, don’t you see?

Oz: “She was gonna hurt somebody. I didn’t have a choice.”

Willow: “But you did! You could have told somebody. Your solution…just put you two together in a room? All night?”

Veruca: “Girl’s got a point.”

First of all, go fuck yourself, Veruca. Second of all, yes. Both girls have a point. Oz could have even told Buffy hours before. He actively lied about the second werewolf, even knowing Buffy’s policy of non-violence where the species is concerned.

He totally had a choice.

Willow: “I knew. I knew, you jerk. And you sat there and you told me everything was fine? And that’s as bad as…”

Oz: “I know how it feels. I remember.”

First of all, go fuck yourself, Oz. When you forgive someone for something, you don’t get to throw it back at them later to cover your own ass. Second of all, if you know how it feels, why did you choose to do it to Willow?

He says it’s not payback or anything like that, and Willow points out correctly that not all cheating is comparable. For example, making out with Xander was bad. But one might argue that fucking someone else and lying about it when it wasn’t your fault in the first place, then lying a second time when provided the opportunity to prevent it from happening yet again and then actually doing it again isn’t even in the same god damn ballpark.

Willow points out that he was attracted to Veruca before this, and he can’t deny it. She runs away and wanders through town lost in her sadness until she steps off the sidewalk and is almost hit by a car. Buffy sees it happening but is too far away to prevent it. Riley is fortuitously passing by and jumps in front of the car to pull her out of the way. Both of them narrowly miss being hit. Buffy runs over to see if Willow is okay, and Riley says:

Riley: “Whatever it is? It’s not worth hurting yourself over.”

Buffy looks shocked at the suggestion that Willow might have walked into traffic on purpose, and this moment? Makes me think that I’ve been too hard on Riley in the past. I really, really hated Riley before, but watching the show more in depth? At a moment like this? He not only did something incredibly brave to save Willow, but he’s savvy enough to go, you know, this isn’t my business, but I don’t want her to get hurt and she seems too upset for this to have been a coincidence. He gets involved in a way that could be construed as pushy or intrusive, but he’s like, fuck it. This chick could get killed and I’m gonna say something in case her friend doesn’t put two-and-two together.

Oh, wait. I just remembered how he’s gonna be in season five. No, I still hate him. But just a smidge less.

In their dorm room, Buffy makes an ominous promise:

Buffy: “I have to find Veruca before the sun sets. I will, though. And when I do, this thing stops. She’s bad news.”

Does this mean Buffy is going to kill Veruca, despite her personal policy of not killing werewolves? Is Buffy bending the rules for personal reasons? And isn’t murder…kinda extreme?

Anyway, Buffy makes a comment about Willow putting the blame where it belongs, and Willow is like, yeah, great idea and gets out her witch business. So, something safe is gonna happen.

In his room, Oz is calling around looking for Veruca when Buffy barges in. He’s going to help her track Veruca.

Oz: “Look, Buffy, you should know that–”

Buffy: “Oz. Now might be a good time for your trademark stoicism.”

That’s right, Oz. You don’t get to talk. I’m so angry at you!

In what appears to be the communal kitchen in the dorm (!), Willow is conjuring up a spell:

Willow: “I conjure thee by Barabas, by Satanis, and the Devil. As thou art burning, let Oz and Veruca’s deceitful hearts be broken.”

Here we go! We got some #42 and some #4!

Let’s tackle #42, first. Again, Willow’s magic is consistently referred to as Wicca, which is a specific religion that notably does not have a concept of Satan. But even if we were to broaden this to all areas of witchcraft, Satan and the Devil are the same thing and you wouldn’t conjure him to help with a heartbreak spell, anyway. Every witch knows there are a plethora of wronged lovers in almost every pantheon, plus plenty of fictional archetypes that embody the spirit of the feeling of being a lover wronged. You would not bother Satan with this and he probably doesn’t give a shit about it, anyway.

Now, let’s move on to #4: Willow, you know that vengeance demons exist. What are you doing? Why the complicated spell? You know you can summon a being who will take care of this at no cost to you. And you can’t even use the argument here that she was using this spell because secretly she doesn’t really want to hurt Oz, but guess what? She’s conjuring the literal DEVIL.

Back in the forest, Oz is sniffing around for Veruca.

Then we’re back to Willow and her conjuring of things that have nothing to do with a love spell. For example, the “Saracen Queen,” which is a title used to refer to Mavia, an early Christian military leader, so again, probably not interested in helping you in your anti-love spell, and “the name of hell” which, you know. We’ve already covered why involving Satan in this nonsense is…nonsense. Willow is so mad, she’s levitating shit at this point.

In the woods, they find a pile of Veruca’s clothing. At first, they think it’s just what she left behind from the other full moon night, but then they realize it’s a trap. Oz knows that Veruca is going to go after Willow. He runs ahead of Buffy, who collides with one of the mysterious commandos and is knocked to the ground.

Just as Willow is about to burn Oz’s picture as part of the spell, she hesitates. Realizing she can’t do it, she ends the spell. And that’s when Veruca comes in.

Veruca: “Wow. For a minute there, I thought you might actually play rough. Sometimes you have to, you know? To keep what’s yours? Sometimes, you have to kill. Well, how about that? The sun’s almost down.”

Caaaah-mmercial break.

After the commercial, Buffy wrestles with the commando and we cut back to Veruca slinkily threatening Willow. I’m not sure Veruca wouldn’t be better off as like…a weresnake. Veruca taunts Willow, then hits her. Oz comes in and warns Veruca to leave Willow alone.

Veruca: “How can I? She’s the reason you’re living in cages. She’s blinding you. When she’s gone, you’ll be able to admit what you are.”

As they argue, they start to change. Veruca tells Oz that animals kill, and Oz is like, yeah, we sure do. They fully transform while fighting, which would be cool except for the part where we’re watching a beloved character murder his recent sexual partner. And he does murder her. He rips her throat out and is advancing on Willow when Buffy bursts in and tranquilizes him.

She was there in the nick of time to save Oz. But Veruca, the slutty slut slut, had to die.

Can we just acknowledge #6 and #1 on this one? Plus, #33? Because they’re all tied together in Veruca’s death.

First of all, yes. Veruca was evil. She was going to hurt Willow.

Second, Buffy didn’t know that when she all but explicitly said she was going to kill Veruca. Not because Veruca had hurt someone. Because she might hurt someone. Oz has killed, and they did everything they could to make sure it wouldn’t happen again because he’s human most of the time and it seemed wrong to slay him. But Veruca is The Other Woman, so it’s just and right that Buffy should kill her for her grieving friend? Based on the rules already laid down in the show, there’s no legitimate reason to kill her. The only sin she has committed at that point is fucking Oz.

Third, Veruca is played very much like Alex from Fatal Attraction. I get that’s what they’re going for. But that movie is problematic on its own; the entire “good man makes one mistake and crazy bitch destroys his life” genre is problematic. Veruca is a bad person, but we haven’t seen any evidence that she’s ever actually hurt someone. If she were on a serial werewolf killing spree and there was no hope for her rehabilitation, fine. She’s embraced the demon side. But she’s been in Sunnydale for how long and there haven’t been any reported werewolf attacks? Also, it’s suggested at one point that Veruca knows what she’s doing when she’s in wolf form, which means she has the self-control not to kill. Why was the decision to kill her made before she committed violence against Willow, something that was unforeseen by Oz and Buffy until they found the clothing in the woods?

Fourth, why is Veruca automatically the evil one in the situation? Even I sit here like, “How dare you! How dare you, homewrecker!” and then I have to check my thinking and go, okay, does it make her a nice person that she went after a guy she knew was in a relationship? No. Is that a choice I approve of? No. But does it make her solely responsible for Oz cheating? Absolutely not. When Buffy says Willow should lay the blame where it lies, that blame goes on Oz. He makes the choice, while human, to lock himself into a cage with Veruca and have sex with her after he makes the choice to lie about her being a werewolf. Oz is the person to blame in this situation. Would he have cheated on Willow with someone else if Veruca hadn’t offered? Maybe not. But the point is, he did cheat. While Veruca made a mean, hurtful choice, it’s still Oz who’s responsible for hurting Willow because he’s the only one who made a promise to Willow to be faithful.

Fifth, and I cannot stress this enough, Oz is still mostly human when he makes the decision to kill Veruca. This is one of the good guys. One of the good guys has lied to the other good guys, cheated on a good guy, and is now going to kill a woman right in front of our eyes to make her pay for his mistake. He could have broken up with Willow if he was interested in Veruca. He could have chosen not to lie to Buffy or lock Veruca in with him. He could have been honest with Willow. But he wasn’t. That doesn’t justify Veruca trying to hurt Willow, at all, and he’s not to blame for Veruca’s actions. But all of this could have been avoided if he’d been honest with Buffy when she first asked him about Veruca. Also, by not cheating in the first place. But Veruca is the slut to blame, so she has to die.

Why does she have to die? Because it’s supposed to be a satisfying conclusion to the story. The viewer is supposed to be satisfied to see Oz choose Willow to the point of actually murdering the woman he cheated with. We’re supposed to feel some sense of justice from that.

Back at Giles’s house, Buffy tells Giles about the commando, and how she’d seen them before and assumed they were in costume. Buffy blames herself for not being there in time to save Veruca, and Giles is like, yeah, but you saved Willow.

Giles. Stop talking. Don’t disappoint me.

Buffy tells Giles she doesn’t know how Oz and Willow are going to get through all of this, and we fade to Willow at Oz’s dorm. She finds him packing his bags to leave.

Willow: “That’s your solution?”

Oz: “That’s my decision.”

Willow: “Don’t I get any say in this?”

Oz: “No.”

And Willow’s face goes like:

Oz tells her that Veruca was right; he’s not just a werewolf some of the time. He needs to figure out what it means to be a werewolf, and he doesn’t trust himself to be around her or anyone. Willow asks how long he’ll be gone, and he tells her he doesn’t know.

Willow: “Oz, don’t you love me?”

Oz: “My whole life…I’ve never loved anything else.”

He kisses her forehead, then leaves her to cry alone in his room. He gets in his…blue? van to drive away. I don’t remember his van being blue. How did I miss that his van was blue? Anyway, he has a really difficult time starting the engine until it almost seems like he’s going to run back to her. But he drives off. Bye bye, Oz.

I think I’ve outlined pretty thoroughly what I think of this entire send-off. There had to be some way to do this without destroying the character. Because I can’t like Oz after this. I know he comes back later and there’s this whole business where he wants Willow back but she’s with Tara, but honestly? I wasn’t thrilled to see him show up. By the end of the episode, I was glad he was gone.

But maybe that was the point. Maybe the writers knew he was so beloved, the only way to stop us from rioting in the streets when he left was to turn him into an irredeemable monster of a monster.