Well, Actually

by Mazey Eddings

He flashes a cheeky smile, his eyes so blue they make me blush. Which also makes me feel old because he’s only twenty-one and I’m a haggard twenty-seven navigating life without health insurance or a clue.

Nothing pairs as well with a tipsy Friday night in as much as a social media doomscroll.

the world is not kind to your hopes and dreams, especially those of women. The universe does not give a damn about your plans and your aspirations and any of the grueling work you put in to reach them. The universe is random and harsh and throws whatever it wants at you, and all you can do is make the best of whatever shitty hand that is.”

My knees almost buckle, and my hand darts out, grabbing his arm, my lips parting as I try to process what he’s saying. Cooper’s heavy gaze moving from my face to where I touch him breaks me out of my trance. I release him with an exaggerated flex of my hand. What is this, a fucking swoon? Good god, I need to get a grip. And not one on Cooper’s surprisingly solid bicep. The boy is wiry, but apparently strong ropes of muscle are hidden under those stupid-ass sweatshirts. And well-tailored suits. Christ.

“You’re the human equivalent of Comic Sans,” I respond, working to check my own twitching lips as they try to mirror his. Cooper’s grin only grows. “I’m so glad you’ve picked up that words of affirmation are my love language. You make me feel so good about myself.” Against my will, a honk of laughter bursts out of me. His eyes glint like he was just handed the winning numbers for the lottery.

“Piss off. I’m a bitch and you know it.” I flick my hair behind my ear, letting out an unbothered chuckle. “I wear it with pride; you don’t have to lie to your listeners.” “Okay, calm down, Meredith Brooks,” he says, mouth twisting. “You may have quite the bite, but that’s what makes it all so fun.”

It’s a bit obscene and offensive for a man to be so caked up on a Sunday afternoon. I force my eyes to my feet.

He turns to me, mouth lifting in a slow smirk, and I realize I was gawking. I scowl in return, digging my nails into my palms. I refuse to feel anything in the realm of turned on in a PT Cruiser.

I am tough. And I’m sick of having to be. I’m sick of having to choke down my feelings, fend for myself. I’m sick of stepping into glass armor every day, waiting for whatever stones people on the internet chuck my way, whatever fractures the powers that be at my job chisel onto my surface. I’m sick of having to scrape my way to aloofness just so I’m not a nuisance to my friends. My family. I deserve softness, goddammit. I deserve tender moments and gentle caresses and whispered sweet nothings. I deserve someone, somewhere, wanting to like me for me and not the hardened veneer I gloss my vulnerability with.

“In the six years since I’ve met you,” he says, placing his hands on the table, only an inch from mine, “I’ve never met someone quite like you.” “Careful. You’re tiptoeing very close to ‘not like other girls’ territory,”

Why was I so easy to leave? What is it about me that’s so simple to forget? Recitals and parent-teacher conferences and important dates and milestones where I’m left alone on the curb with my heart in my hand desperately wishing someone thought I was important enough to remember.

“I will fuck you any way you want. Any speed, any position. I will go down on you all fucking night if that’s what it takes to make you come, and I will do it with a goddamn smile on my face the entire time. Do you understand me?”

👏👏👏

My desperation to please someone enough to get them to stick around was my only tangible desire. Why would I bother figuring out my own needs when I was too tied-up figuring out how to make it good for the other person?

Feeling useless and directionless and like you aren’t keeping up is kind of the entire point of your twenties. Everything is ass all the time and all we can do is lean on each other through it, not compare ourselves moment to moment.” “That was very live, love, laugh of you,” I say

“None of us have shit figured out,” Aida says, rubbing a soothing circle along my back. “And that’s okay.