Toxic Friendships

These jeans are slippery. That sounds weird; I’ll find a better way to say that. One that doesn’t make me sound like an old, creepy guy on Craigslist. It isn‘t really the jeans themselves either; it’s the zipper. I got these at a local thrift shop and they functioned just fine then. Three months later, no, five months later, and the thing just won‘t stay up. That’s what she said...

 Anyway, I liked them. They were better fitting than the ones I found at “regular“ shop, which those ones would have cost me nearly forty dollars! Forty. Dollars. All for the sake of keeping my butt cheeks and stuff covered. These jeans, from the thrift shop, the ones that made my legs look how I wanted them to, rather than the chicken thighs I always perceived them as, were five dollars. With the thirty-five I saved, I went into our local bookstore and grabbed every interesting book I could find that had characters less cookie cutter than the other stories I’ve read. I’m sick and tired of always seeing white people with pop star hair cuts or brown and curly styles. It was far past time to find something more diverse, and I found them. Murder mysteries, escaping cults, romances with forbidden elements due to cultural differences, books where fathers are murdered by parents and their sons exact revenge, (murdered by Pirates is good) and books containing vampires from every single race. I’d tell my friends all of this, I promised myself, when I could finally get these jeans to zip up and stay up so I could leave the house. 

 How impressed they’ll be when I tell them I finally finished that big ass book on my to be read shelf; the One-Thousand page one, only to come to the conclusion that it was shit! I love a good happy ending, but it was so rushed compared to other parts of the story that dragged on. It was as if the author got tired of writing it and just wanted to hurry up and get the damn thing published so they could tell their parents that their English degree wasn’t a waste of money because they finally got a book there. Not a good book, but a book nonetheless. I can’t wait to tell them how many typos I found in it (I kept a list) and I’ll tell them the worst one of all: “It not funny, Rose!” It not funny. It. Not. Funny. Aren’t editors on some websites practically free? Come on, man. 

 I’m running late, but I’ll tell them the truth despite the ugliness of it. I had to change shirts. Twice. I ate a snack so I wouldn’t be that person at the table, pigging out and leaving no breadsticks for anyone else to enjoy. I got a stain on it. I changed into a white t-shirt. I picked up my cat who pooped and didn’t clean properly. I just threw whole shirt away. Finally, I wore black, but had to lint brush it a few times because, again, cats. 

 And are my jeans going to be a problem? I’ll rant to my friends about how I freakin love the way my butt looks in these, but that there’s no way I can keep this up for much longer. I can only wear so many long shirts. No one wants to see what color my underwear is. But damn, I love these jeans though. 

 I’ll talk about how expensive a new pair is. No, nope. Scratch that. I’ll act like it’s no big deal because bragging about penny pinching is only cool if you behave like it’s a trend, or a way to save the planet rather than an actual means to save money. I just really wanted those books, man.

 So I’m finally out the door and my cat cries that I haven’t fed them yet. I feed the cat. I dip out, telling them to be good; that I love them and will be back soon and not to poop on the floor while I’m gone. I’m out and down the street. We fist bump, sit down, and everyone starts chatting about their day. 

 Jaybreon rants about how he had a bad day, but when he tells the story, literally the only thing that happened was someone reported a picture of his dog as porn because the person that reported it is a jealous asshole and has nothing better to do. The troll’s defense? The dog was naked. Dude. It’s a dog. Hardly a “bad day,” but hey, we all deal with things differently.

 Then the waitress comes. She takes everyone’s order and my friend Karen laughs and orders for me because I always get the tacos. Today I wanted chicken, but I guess I’m eating tacos with beef. Thanks, Karen. 

 Chad grabs the air, which only laid silent for a second, to talk about his workouts and how someone at the gym called him fat so he punched them. I’ll take, “things that didn’t happen” for Five-Hundred. 

 I open my mouth to speak but our food arrives, and we all just dig in. Millie then goes on and on about her girlfriend problems and we all pretend like Millie’s not the asshole in this Situation when in all reality, we have no idea why her girlfriend doesn’t just end things already. 

 Chad’s gotta go. He’s got a date.

 Karen has to return her jeans because there’s a hole in them. She bought them that way but good luck, I guess. 

 Millie says she has homework, but we all know she just wants to post the new chapter she wrote for her fanfiction. Completely valid, but why lie?

 Jaybreon is honest, though. He’s gotta go home cause he’s had enough social time and he’s ready to get back to streaming his game for the Internet masses.

 I just leave, hoping that maybe next time, it will be my turn to speak. 

Man, my friends suck.