MIA
Men are cunts.
Dirty disgusting trolls with big balls and empty heads.
They put in all effort to date you. Going above and beyond just to have you. But the moment they get used to you, they get bored, break your fucking heart, and fucking move on to the next fucking unfortunate prey.
Fuck!
I scowl with frustration at myself, tapping my fingers aggressively against my keypad.
I'd convinced myself that Olson, my most recent of disasters, was going to be different. He was charming, sweet, and matched my level of sarcasm. We even had sex one time and might I just add that having your head whacking against the car door for over thirty minutes is not what most people find romantic.
Gosh. I thought he was the one, thought he was the fucking idiot I'd be spending the rest of my life with, and maybe it was a little bit too naive to think we'd end up together since we'd only been seeing each other for about five months, but I hadn't expected him to cheat, at least not with his philosophy professor who, dare I say, is twice his age and has the sex appeal of a blobfish.
Jesus.
I snort in disgust, repeatedly tapping the word 'fuck' until it fills my screen in blank cursives.
"M, What do you think about this one?"
Tessa's voice makes me raise my eyes from my laptop and stare over the bridge of my round glasses at the glittering burnt orange gown she wiggles in front of me.
I roll my eyes in exasperation. "I asked for sophisticated and smart, not single and desperate."
"Come on," She muses, turning around the vanity mirror to hold up the dress in front of her body. "It's pretty isn't it?"
"Pretty pathetic, yeah." I scorn, turning my eyes back to my laptop and wiping away all the 'fuck'
s
.
As much as I want to spend all day swearing at Olson and hoping he ends up on the street with the man who yells at passing cars, I also have other important things to do, like studying for my final exams which are next month, and getting ready for a trip to Colombia which I honestly don't want to go for but when your third cousin is getting married to some rich Asian prince, and Abuela threatens to freeze your credit card if you don't show up, you have no choice but to fly 2 thousand 4 hundred and 95 miles to the other side of the world.
"How about wearing this one then?" Tessa offers, not even halfway through packing yet she has managed to scatter most of my clothing around the room. "It looks pretty and boring. So...you." she teases, yanking the dress off its hanger and throwing it at my face.
I sigh dramatically and hump out of bed, and, just like Tessa, I hold the petal-pitch dress in front of my body.
My mirror image looks like shit by the way.
My hair looks like a family of woodpeckers nested in it and the shadows underneath my eyes are so dark that they aren't even purple anymore but on the bright side, the dress looks good on me.
"I can't believe I'm actually gonna do this," I say to myself, sighing with nostalgia at the skinny figure in the mirror.
"I think it's good for you Mia," Tessa urges, turning around to flick through a few hangers. "A change of environment is what you need; a place where Olson can't find you."
"I suppose," I murmur, letting a sound of pure frustration pass my lips.
Even the mention of his name still makes my chest clench with anger, and honestly, I don't know if I am madder that he cheated on me or that he turned me into a fucking cliché.
Lately, I've been starting to think that maybe those crony old ladies are right. It's a horrible, confusing, heartbreaking truth but maybe they are right and I am never going to find myself true love or a decent man for that matter.
That right there is the highlight of my life. If anything, I'm convinced I have the worst taste in men, and after three consecutive relationships turned out to be colossal failures, absolutely worthless, and a total waste of precious time, I've come to a conclusion that I need to take a hiatus from dating for a while, maybe forever.
"Honestly, he wasn't good enough for you to begin with," Tessa adds, aimlessly plucking outfit after outfit from the wardrobe.
My face tugs down. "Well, you certainly never complained about him before."
"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, I think your boyfriend is an asshole?" Yeah, right." She snorts and though I find that a little offensive, she's probably right.
I change topics. "Are you here for emotional support or to help me pack?"
Tessa laughs and that somewhat makes me laugh too but it only lasts for a moment as I suddenly remember all the things I haven't done yet.
I throw the dress into my luggage and huff out a groan. "Do I really have to go? I mean I could tell Abuela a test came up or something."
I hear her sigh. "It's holiday Mia and unless you're planning on masturbating for the rest of your life you should do this." She scorns, placing the last piece of clothing into the luggage and that literally leaves my closet empty, save for most of the casual attires I wear to class and a few of my classier dresses I often wear to in-campus parties.
"Well, if you're gonna make me go, you should come with me too."
"Thanks but no thanks. I don't wanna get in the way of your sexual spree," she explains, posturing to my cabinet and her perfectly structured curves come into sight as she opens the drawers and retrieves my dental floss.
"Contrary to popular beliefs, I do not need a so-called sex spree to make myself feel better and I'm perfectly fine going without having a man stick his bacteria-ridden penis in me," I state, taking off my clothes as I decide on a quick shower before my flight.
"Well," she shrugs. "What's a little cock without some bacteria."
"Really?" I quirk my brows. "That's your come back?"
She bursts out laughing. "Just kidding,"
"Why do I even bother." I roll my eyes as I take off my panties and reach for my towel.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She apologizes, swallowing down her laugh. "My point is, we all have those days when our life feels too dull and we just want to get laid by a hot stranger. You know," she wriggles her brows. "No string attached kinky sex, blindfolds, handcuffs, the buzz buzz, and lots of throbbing cocks."
I cringe as I reach for my towel.
Who the fuck would want anything that throbs?
Throbbing is what happens to your foot with you slam it against a kitchen door.
"I think I'll pass," I say phlegmatically and groan as she throws a brush at my head.
Did not expect that. Ouch.
"Step out of your comfort zone dummy," she scowls at my stubbornness. "It's the holiday season and there's gonna be a lot of horny Latino men roaming San Andrés."
"Still not interested." I flip her off, making my way to the bathroom door.
"Well, when you meet the right guy, you won't be able to resist." She states affirmatively at my receding figure.
"Probably not," I answer impassively and stalk into the tiled walls of my bathroom.
We had this conversation way too often and it always ended on the same note with me saying no.
Losing free is a concept I never believed in. I just don't get why doing bizarre things makes you any more of a human.
Yes, I'm a bit out of trend and not everyone appreciates that. They call me a cynic, upright, impulsive, stuck up, and maybe I am-no, in fact, I am, but the funny truth is I don't care.
Clearing my thoughts, I step into the shower and turn on the water. It beats over my head in steamy rivulets and soaks into my skin. I lean against the cool tiles and sigh deeply.
God help me. The sooner this vaca is over, the better.
