(Lesbian) Heartbreak Hotel and Other Shitty Love Songs (LGBT) (GirlxGirl)

Track Eleven: Too Many Dicks (On The Dance Floor) --Flight of the Conchords

The Goodwin brothers were a charismatic pair of bronzed, toned, greek god-like siblings that were basically every teenage girls' dream man to the power of two. Correction: every straight, non-emo teenage girls' dream man. To the power of two. That's like, twice as much Fabio as the average person receives in their lifetime.

Ryan and Matthew were sort of like two emotionally damaged, sensitive, but really fucking good at soccer peas in a pod. They worked those striped jerseys like models leaving prison. Which happens to be exactly why I needed at least one of them under my belt, if not the full set. It's like pokemon. You can't just have one fucking card. You have to annoy the shit out of your mom for the next four years and attempt to collect all those motherfuckers before you even realize you don't even know how to play the game.

Okay, maybe not the greatest comparison, but you get the picture. I spotted Ryan from across the cafeteria, and I realized that I was hungry.

No, not for his dick. To wipe that douchey smirk off his face. Y'know, show the girls that he isn't the perfect vision of coolness that he portrays with every bro-tank flex. Or maybe I just wanted a target that wasn't as, well, as likeable as Vinnie was. The seeds of guilt were there, okay, I was just too stupid to identify them.

My guilt has sprung up like a goddamn sunflower at this point. Sheesh, I have a whole fucking guilt garden. Just call me a hoe, ha.

But seriously.

Ryan and Matthew were cute boys. And I was just far enough out of their league to have them on their knees begging for me-- and if all went well? Maybe a fight too. Nothing says legend like being the babe to break up the school's most infamous duo.

I caught Ryan by his locker that very afternoon, offering him a megawatt grin and absent-minded muscle grabbing. I planted the idea of milkshakes into his head, with a wink and a hair flip, and days later I was caught with his arm around my waist at the diner downtown sharing a mint-chocolate milkshake with two straws. I got both the cherries, though, and you can bet your ass I can knot those cherry stems with my tongue.

The diner quickly became our place. Every Friday night, and sometimes during the week when we had nothing better to do. I'm sure I gained a few pounds from all the curly fries, but I can honestly say that the greasy food was the only enjoyable part of my relationship with Ryan.

Ryan was a little bit of a me me me, I I I type of guy. Before you come at me-- I know that I'm the same way. But at least I'm self aware. This guy could drone on and on about his life for hours and never even catch a whiff of the stifling boredom floating through the air. It made my job pretty damn easy, as his deepest insecurities soon starting slipping from his lips like the whipped cream making its way down his patchy-stubbled chin.

"Matthew's just, ugh, he's such a douche, dude," He had muttered to me one spring evening. It was soccer season, but was raining too hard for practice, so naturally we set our sights on the diner. I rolled my eyes at his utterance of 'dude'.

"Douchier than you? Hard to imagine," I muttered, only half-sarcastically. Ryan chuckled, giving me a series of freezing, ice-cream coated kisses on my cheek. It took all of my strength to hold back the oncoming cringe.

"It's just, he thinks he's so much better than me, you know? Just because he's fucking center forward. Stupid. And his grades aren't even that much better than mine! He's taking easier classes anyways," He would drone on and on like this for hours, until the thunderstorm was just one of those memories that almost seem like they could have been dreams.

It was obvious that Ryan had a little bit of a jealousy issue when it came to Matthew. In fact, I would argue that if 50% of our conversations where about himself, the other half were about Matthew, and how much of a douche he was.