The Girlfriend Experience

Chapter 19: The proposal

Ethan

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If shit, could take a shit and that shit takes a shit on top of another piece of shit, I would be that shit.

I'm the last piece of shit, the last piece of turd that floats at the bottom of the toilet. I've been treated like that my whole life. I should be at peace with it by now but for some reason I keep holding on to this hope that the last piece of shit will prevail and win.

Excuse me while I laugh at myself.

Everything I've ever said and thought about hope and optimism and holding on and blah, blah, blah is nothing but a whole bunch of blah, blah, blahs. That stuff doesn't exist to me. At least not in the way I thought they did. The hopes that I had that Rhiannon was finally coming around was false. Balderdash, my Grandfather would say. The positive outlook I had of this ending well in my favor was bogus. The faith that I held onto that one day Rhiannon would be mine has disappeared into thin air much like the faith I had in God.

I now know that there is no God. If there is one, then he or she must be sitting on their heavenly throne laughing at me. Everyone and everything is laughing at me. I'm a joke. I've become more of a joke than I ever was and the laugher will never expire because I'm always going to be a joke.

I'm a piece of shit.... and a joke. Ironically those two go hand in hand in for me.

The only person I can think of, who I'm almost positive, has never tied those two words to me is my mom. She's never given me the impression that I'm either of the two and I can always sense it from her too. She's a great mom. I never give her enough credit for all that she does for me; for instance, my laundry, buying me comic books, cleaning my room, pushing me to be better in life, which, yes, I have to admit I give her a lot of shit for but she means well and I guess when it boils down to it her intentions for me are always good even if I think otherwise.

 
She's not just my mom. She's the one constant female figure in my life. I've been too caught up on the fact that I've never had a girlfriend and chasing after Rhiannon to see that. For example. Like, right now. I'm sitting on the kitchen table, still in my bathrobe, staring into blank space wishing Rhiannon would magically appear, my mom is removing my barely eaten lunch plate away replacing it with a glass of homemade lemonade.

She knows I'm in a sour mood, she's only inquired about it once and I told her I didn't want to discuss it. Unlike other moms who would push and push until you spill your guts and pride, she says nothing respecting my decision to not go into details.

I love my mom. Who was I kidding thinking I needed another woman in my life? I only need her.

"Ethan, sweetie," my mom calls, waking me from my reverie. "Are you going to help your dad out this afternoon with the yard or are you going to sulk all day."

"I'm not sulking," I say, clearly sulking.

Oh-oh, perhaps I need to take back all that nice stuff I've just said about her. I feel a full case of afternoon nagging coming on.

"You're definitely sulking," she notes. "And if you're not going to tell me what's wrong, you might as well do something to get your mind of whatever's bothering you and I think helping your dad out is a great way to start."

I'm definitely taking back all the nice things I've said about her.

"It's a beautiful Saturday, autumn is among us. The leaves need to be raked, the grass needs to be mowed, the___" the bell rings, sounding a little louder today for some reason cutting her right off.