Don't Worry, I Still Hate You
“I did it.”
“Did what?” It basically didn’t matter what her response was, I had already tuned her out as I focused on the ad I was making on my phone. I had written and rewritten it a hundred times, but wanted to make sure it was perfect before publishing it.
“Remember what we were talking about a few days ago?” I rolled my eyes because... sure. “It’s called Sextee, and everyone does it.”
“Everyone does it, huh? Great, good for them.” I tried ignoring Claire as I smiled at the ticket agent and handed over my ID before going through security. I busied myself putting my carry-on on the conveyor belt and removing my shoes.
“Seriously, everyone does it,” Claire tried again. Deciding to play her game, I finally acknowledged her.
“Okay, I’ll humor you. What are you talking about and what do you mean everyone does it?”
She laughed. “Well, no one actually talks about it, but come on, Perrie, it’s been what? Four years?”
I quickly looked around to see if anyone heard her. “Three,” I mumbled.
She sighed. “Same thing. Three years since sex. Clear the damn cobwebs already.” I shushed her again as I looked around. An elderly lady sat a row in front of us. With the way she was glaring at us, it was obvious she could hear Claire talking, which means if she could, then the entire airport most likely did. Claire has never in her life, truly figured out how to whisper. “I’ve taken the liberty of making you a profile.”
I shook my head. “Wait, what?”
“Oh, girl, you’re welcome,” she said, clearly ignoring my voice growing five octaves, getting ready to jet into freak-out mode, “It basically pinpoints where the other person is. Think of it as an Uber but for sex.” She leaned closer to me.
What? Who the hell thinks of shit like this?
“In fact, the guy over in the corner is ready; his flight doesn’t leave for another hour.” I looked up in almost complete horror at the guy she was pointing at.
“Claire,” I tried saying as gently as possible since the only other option was to lose my shit. “I don’t need any type of a hookup app. Besides, there might be someone,” I said matter-of-factly, even though I knew damn well, I was better off getting a new toy. You know you’re single as fuck when you drop over a hundred dollars on a toy and don’t even bat an eye.
She stared at me unblinking before realization sunk in. “Oh. My. God. It’s Felix, isn’t it? I’ve seen the way he looks at you like you’re a vegan turkey!”
“Trying vegan again this week, Claire?”
She nodded in disgust before focusing her attention back on me. “Don’t change the subject. If you say Felix, I will make you eat your own liver!”
“Claire!” I pretended to feign shock. “He is some poor unfortunate soul’s roommate, show some respect!” She didn’t find that nearly as funny as I did. “He’s not so bad, besides he’s... someone for now, I guess.”
“He’s an asshole. He feels the need to mansplain everything. You know he wasn’t kidding when he said women had the ability to turn their periods off, right?”
I sighed; she was right. Felix was a complete asshole, but I made it clear it would never, ever, ever go further than just sex, as I recalled the awkward conversation we had…
He looked up at me, completely exasperated. “My fantasy football team is losing.”
I stared at him for a moment before realizing I should at least act concerned. “Oh no,.” I said as my voice trailed off. He threw his phone down. I cleared my throat., “Are you seeing anyone?”
He frowned, “No. Why?”
I briefly ran through my mind trying to decide if I was truly crazy for even asking this. “Would you be interested in… hanging out?”
He scowled before slowly smiling. “I knew you wanted me.”
I rolled my eyes., I forgot how dense he was, yet I’m the one willingly walking into this mistake. “Just sex. That’s it. Just sex.”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug as he leaned back in his chair.
“Seriously, just sex.”
“Whatever you say, doll.”
At that moment, Barb, the bride-to-be, finally decided to grace us with her presence. For some odd reason, I will never understand why Barb felt the need to dress as if she was auditioning as a backup dancer for Britney Spears circa 1999. If the glitter lip gloss, midriff, and flared bottom jeans didn’t convince you, then the choker and the ‘Karen’ style haircut she was sporting sure as hell did. Barb single-handedly invented the ‘Karen’ cut before Karen’s could even Karen.
We watched as Barb made a dramatic show of making sure everyone and anything could see her ring before finally looking our way. “Girls!” She held up her right hand and wiggled her fingers, using her other hand to point to her ring finger as if all of us were completely braindead and couldn’t figure that shit out for ourselves. “Can you believe it? I have been waiting for this day for so long.”
“Didn’t you have at least two other days with your other two marriages?” I didn’t miss the side-eye from Barb. It’s not that I hated her—hate is such a strong word. It’s more like if she was missing, I surely wouldn’t link arms with a bunch of random people and join the search party. The mosquitos are crazy this time of year.
“Well, they weren’t the ones, clearly.” We all stood to board. Twenty minutes later, my eyes were shut to enjoy this four-hour flight. My eyes popped open as my brain just now decided to catch up with our previous conversation. Oh my God, what if Felix falls in love with me? I somehow tormented myself with the idea, irritated that Claire had the audacity to put that in my head. I was still thinking about it, but tried to relax when I put my earphones in. It didn’t last long before Claire jabbed me in the ribs. “Hey, back there in row twenty-three.”
“Will you cut it out,” I whispered-yelled.
“Perrie.” My eyes shot back open as I glanced at Claire. She was scrolling through her phone. “There are a few on this flight. Join the mile-high club.” I ignored her and closed my eyes again.
“Is it cliché to have the bachelorette party in Vegas?”
Does having one’s eyes closed not mean shit to people anymore? I looked up at Barb who was not only slurring her words but was practically leaning over the seat to talk to us. We’ve been in the air for less than an hour and she’s already on her third mimosa. We weren’t even in Vegas yet, and it was just after ten in the morning. But, even more so, why the hell did I agree to this?
“Not cliché, per se,” I started to answer her but it didn’t matter, she was too busy flipping through her germ-filled magazine. Instead, I put my earphones back in and tried to get some rest before this ridiculous weekend started.
I couldn’t be more thrilled at the fact that we all were walking around Vegas looking like a bunch of penises threw up on us.
“He’s the one. He’s just the one. You know when you know. He’s the one.” I rolled my eyes at Barb who has said that same sentence to anyone who bothered to even try to care to listen.
“Yeah, Barb. Totally the one. If not him, then definitely the one after him.” I didn’t even bother mumbling that last part, but since she was drunk, it didn’t matter what I said, she wouldn’t remember any of this anyway. I have never been happier that she had the attention span of a flea.
After dinner, I convinced everyone to dress in normal attire for once as we walked around the casino floor. After a while, I took my phone out and pulled up the Sextee app Claire had been talking about nonstop. It wouldn’t hurt to look, would it? Besides, don’t they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? I turned on the tracker and the screen immediately lit up, showing who was nearby. I couldn’t believe it. It was like the movie WarGames when the screens lit up showing all the airstrikes.
I swiped through each one…
Are you kidding me? He literally has a picture of him with his wife and kids. I think the fuck not.