I’m a firm believer in first impressions, because I want to start an interpersonal relationship on how you present yourself the first time you meet me. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you if you trip over your words, or you laugh too hard at my jokes. But don’t lie to me. And for the love of god, don’t objectify me.
I’m extremely convinced that our date was over before it even started. He saw me walking in his direction, and instinctively threw one of those wolf-whistles into the air, and I had to fight the urge to tell him that I wasn’t his fucking dog. A well played roll of my eyes gave him the obvious hint that I wasn’t impressed, and the more he started talking about being able to bench press some ridiculous amount of weight for no reason other than to build up his biceps and his ego to enormously huge proportions, the more I wanted to go home. I insisted on paying for my meal because I didn’t want to owe him anything, I thanked him for a less-than-mediocre night where I felt like the only eye contact made was between him and my chest, and I made my way to my car solo, monumentally pissed off that my life has boiled down to blind dates that my so-called friends set up because I don’t properly know how to flirt on my own. I remind myself to remind them that I’m not a damsel in distress, and that I don’t need someone to hold my hand.
I slam the door to the apartment that I share with Ed, and kick my shoes off rather loudly at the door, a frustrated huff escaping my mouth as I drop my keys in the basket on the table. I can hear the TV in the living room on, and I heard Ed chuckle at a punch line. I make my way into the room and practically throw myself onto the couch.
“love, you’ve come in at a quite pivotal point” he can hardly contain his laughter as Ross starts screaming, “PIVOT!”
“You’ve been waiting for that line your entire life, haven’t you?” I ask, laughing at the fact that he is so impressed with himself and his jokes. He’s wearing a snuggie, and I’m quite sure that he’s still wearing the same pajamas that I saw him in earlier today.
“You’re home early. Rough night?” he asks, and I shake my head, sighing in frustration
“All of those Disney movies give girls a bad reputation. Guys think that I need them, that I will die without the magical being that is a male, that I need to be rescued from some mediocre problem that they could fix in both half the time and the effort, that my boobs are more important than my morals, that I am an object and that I want them to hold my hand and keep me under their wing so I don’t have to deal with the real world. I am a grown ass adult, Ed Sheeran, and I do not need a man to treat me like I’m his pet or tell me what to do, or act like he’s doing me a favor,” I say through almost gritted teeth.
“he must have done something really bad” He grumbles, holding his hands up in front of him, “if you’re this pissed off”
“It’s every guy, Ed” I shake my head, “I’m not one of those girls, I’m just not. I don’t know how to properly flirt or let a guy order food for me. I just don’t want someone to make me feel like I’m less than the person I am.”
“You’re 22, love” He replies, “you’re too young to settle for someone who doesn’t appreciate your humor, or who treats you like you’re an object. You’re smart and funny and you’re a lot more interesting than any girl I’ve ever met.”
“I’m going to be alone forever” I roll my eyes, sighing. I get up off of the couch, done with the pep talk from my best friend who makes girls fall apart at the seams. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the light gray box sitting on top of the refrigerator. It’s something we haven’t done in awhile, something that, at one point, I swore I’d never do again with Ed Sheeran. I pick the box up and make my way back into the living room. I stand in front of the TV, blocking his view, and his eyes almost light up like a little kid on Christmas.
“Monopoly, Mr.Sheeran” I present the box to him and he eagerly takes it out of my hands
“I’ll be the banker. Sit down, we’re in this for the long haul” he chuckles, and I take a seat next to him.
There’s something about Monopoly that I hate and something that I love. I was never actually taught the rules of monopoly, from the actual instructions. Instead, it was all by word of mouth. I hate it because I’ve never played it properly, because it takes too long, etc. But I love it because Ed makes it intense. There is no free parking, there is no traveling on railroads, and whenever you land on a space, if you don’t buy the property it is auctioned off immediately. He’s a sore winner. He wins all the time, and I feel like it’s the game that can potentially tear friendships apart. We haven’t played in awhile, because I got sick of losing. But nevertheless, we play tonight. And he kicks me ass, as usual, and he hoards the properties and the money. But tonight I feel different, because he’s still the kid who won’t let me win.
“Thank you” I tell him, as he parades around the living room throwing the fake monopoly money into the air, crowning himself queen of mother fucking monopoly land.
He stops in his tracks, and apologizes for being a sore winner, even though he doesn’t mean it, “Sorry, for what?”
“You could have let me win, you know” I tell him, “and that would have confirmed my suspicions about men.”
“Let you win?” he asks, his eyes wide in shock, “are you crazy? I can’t help it that you suck at monopoly. Being a girl doesn’t change that, love.”
“Can I just date you, please?” I ask, puppy dog eyes and all, and a look of pure horror washes over his face when I ask, and I can’t help but stifle a laugh.
“I love you, but I’m pretty sure we are related on some level” he shakes his head
“Oh come on, you don’t want to see me naked?” I ask, shocked and appalled
“Yeah I want to see you naked, but that’s not the problem. You’re going to get weird and ask me to do all of this weird shit for you, like give it to you up the ass and then we’re not going to be friends, and I really want to be friends, and high five you and laugh at stupid jokes.”
“You’re disgusting” I tell him, shaking my head, “I definitely do not want that to happen. Do girls ask you that a lot?”
“Let me remind you that girls want really weird sexual things from me, like they’d compete in the hunger games for my sperm,” he shudders at the thought, and I laugh.
“you need a restraining order, ASAP” I tell him, shaking my head.
“You want to try it out anyways?” he asks shrugging, “you know, someone wrote this really debauched internet fanfic about the way I kiss, so you can tell me if it’s accurate”
“yeah okay, come here” I tell him as he steps in front of me. We’re almost the same height and I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to him, well not in a long time anyways, and he gives me that awkward smile of his, before pressing his lips to mine. At first it’s fine, because I try to convince myself that I want it, that I want him. but it feels different, and wrong, and like I’m kissing my brother.
“yeah, no” I take a step back, frowning, “was that incestuous to you as well?”
“I fucking told you” he yells, throwing his arms in the air,
“Alright, I’ll settle for you as being my best friend” I tell him, “but I’m still pissed because of all of the guys who don’t treat me like you do.”
“Stop trying to settle” he tells me, putting his hands on my shoulder, “Just stop worrying about it and have fun. Jesus.”
“Fine” I grumble and accept it, because I know he’s right, and that he’s going to be my best friend regardless and hopefully I’ll find someone who isn’t like every other guy ive dated.
