Seandra Lea Jones Is A Tomboy

1. Four Letter Words

Bitches be crazy.

No offense, I just had to say it.

And no, I don't mean in the misogynistic, dismissive, alpha male way. I mean in the genuinely, off her rocker way.

Confused? Let me catch you up. My names Sean and I'm best friends and roommates with two football playing hotties, Danny and Shepherd. Love them to death, known them since forever, there's never been any interest between any of us in the romantic or sexual sense. I'm literally one of the bros - don't believe me? We've got a groupchat where we share our most epic shits. It's our poopchat.

Disgusting, I guess, but honestly I'm so used to the off putting habits of boys it doesn't phase me anymore. It's actually hilarious, I grew up with my mom and older sister who are both absolutely stunning and know how to play up their beauty. I, to spite my mother, leaned into my tomboy tendency's and became best friends with Daniel. He's a sweet guy who loves sports and I appreciated that he didn't assume I wouldn't be into the stuff he was into just cause I'm a girl.

With his stamp of approval, every guy took me off their fuck, marry, kill lists and put me effectively in the bro zone. I didn't mind cause I knew their nasty little secrets and didn't want to date them anyway. Besides, I wanted to prove to my mother that I could be successful in life based off my brain and not the, albeit, amazing rack and ass she passed along to me.

Now I'm twenty-four, fresh out of grad school with a shiny masters in physical therapy. I'm living my best life, permanent seat at football games, free entry into clubs with complimentary bottle service and a job that I love.

And yet, I'm kind of tripping out.

It started Wednesday morning when I was eating leftover nachos for breakfast. I had my scrubs on and was munching casually, waiting til the last very second I could stay and not be late for work. I had twenty-three minutes, which meant I needed to get to stepping. I had just closed the takeout container when Danny and his latest girlfriend, Tegan, came stumbling into the house.

I ignored them, sure they were both too hungover to notice anything but each other and the splitting headaches that were no doubt forming. I put the nachos in the fridge and grabbed a water bottle. I guess I pulled it out too quickly because the bottle of ketchup toppled over and hit the glass of olives which clinked against the jar of banana peppers.

"Shit, morning Sean."

I turned and spotted Danny half way up the steps, holding Tegan against him by the waist. I saluted them both with two fingers as I headed to the door.

I didn't miss Tegan's muttered, "Rude," But I did ignore it.

She's been my least favorite girlfriend which is honestly a first. Danny has a solid taste in women (Shepherd is another story), and they usually believe him when he tells them that I'm not a threat. That in his eyes, I'm basically a female eunuch. He never says it in those words but that's essentially the case, Shepherd gives the same spiel to his flavor of the month as well.

I'm used to it, cause every girl, no matter how cool, usually starts getting antsy around the month mark as they realize how close I actually am to their boyfriends. Which I totally understand, I'd be weirded out if my man constantly updated his girl best friend on the type of sandwich he ate for lunch. (It's an inside, not joke, but habit. Been doing it since freshman year of college). It's never bothered me that I'd get a knock on my door, or ambushed at the club or in our kitchen. I simply did my duty and reassured the girl that "Danny and I are merely friends, he's a brother. I promise."

I've also got a longer speech with an anecdote about the time he got exploding diarrhea during a road trip for the ones who were really skeptical. It ends with, "it's hard to want to suck the dick of a guy you've seen weeping and shitting into a half full bucket of chicken." They usually believe me after that.