Gum isn't pussy

Psycho chicks are by far the best in bed.

Traumatic childhoods. Drug problems. Nasty breakups. All of them swirl around a woman's brain, flipping the cerebral switches necessary to turn her into a dick-loving sex fiend.

It all boils down to self-esteem, if you ask me. Remember the chick in high school who got her first boyfriend, and sat in class wistfully scrawling his name on her books? Remember how she couldn't go more than 30 seconds without talking about him, and then wandered the halls wailing like a widow when he finally dumped her for someone cuter? We all shake our heads sadly to hear about a chick who's that far gone. And we all long to have that power over someone.

The real sick ones, like Krista, only wish they could get some guy to commit. They don't try to find boyfriends, lest they get turned down or dumped, which would make them feel even worse.

"She needs help," you are saying. "She needs therapy. You should be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of her."

At my old office, there was a vending machine filled with Chicklets. It sat there for months, until, at some point, someone found out that the top was unlocked and could be pulled off, so that anyone could just reach in and pull Chicklets out, free of charge. The pure-hearted folks walked by it every day to get their coffee, never dreaming of taking candy without paying. Me? I indulged lustily, laughing as I grabbed overflowing fistfuls of the free gum, like a pirate running his fingers through a chestful of dubloons.

Yeah, I know, gum isn't pussy, but you see me working. I won't be the one to crack open the vending machine, but I'll help myself to what's inside. It's someone else's job to monitor such things, and to fix them when they break. If they don't, whatever happens is merely Darwin's law at work.

I guess I'm supposed to be Captain Goody Gumdrops, swooping in to carry Krista off to the therapist's office, wherein she will exorcise all her demons. And I am supposed to do it not for money, or thanks, or for any repayment at all, but simply because it is the Right Thing To Do, and knowing that should be more than compensation enough.

Or maybe I am supposed to be aloof, and simply run away from Krista. Maybe I should just walk by the vending machine and leave the gum alone.

First off, I'd be madder than a swarm of hiveless bees if someone tried to force therapy on me. In fact, people have, and that's just how I felt. Secondly, if something is in front of me, and it's free, and the only reason for not taking it is "it wouldn't be nice", I'm taking it. Oh, and this isn't exactly torture for Krista, anyway.

**********

Thursday, November 30, 2006, 6:30pm
Steve and Tim's house

"Nate's taking me to Ming Garden on Friday," Lila says.

"Damn, that's expensive!"

"So does that mean you don't want to come? You said you wanted to go on a double date with us."

"No, we'll come. That sounds like fun! Tim's gonna have to switch with someone to get the day off, I think."

"Are you guys doing okay?"

"Yeah, you know."

"What does that mean, 'you know'?"

"Nothing, we're fine."

"Are you cheating on her? You cheated on me, I know you did."

"Don't be silly, Lila."

"Did you?"

I should have no qualms about telling her the truth. I'm not with her anymore, and probably never will be again, and you all know how loathe I am to lie under any circumstances. Maybe I'm being nostalgic; maybe I want to preserve the idea that our relationship was pure and unspoiled. Even if the idea were only in Lila's mind, it would still be alive.

"No, Lila, of course not."

She pauses. "So, does Friday sound okay?"