Page 8 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

Dahlia

I do burlesque. You know, Dita Von Teese, Bettie Page, Lotty the Body?

Wesley

Can’t say I’m familiar, but I’d love to make it over to a show one night. It sounds awesome.

My skin prickles with nerves and excitement for him to possibly see me in my element. Also, nearly naked, but that’s not important.

Dahlia

For sure!

Wesley

I could always bring Jasper’s grumpy ass along. Lord knows he could use a night out. Maybe we could grab a hotel or Airbnb nearby, then we can chill that weekend too.

As my fingers fly across the keyboard, my nagging anxiety voice is yellingbitch, don’t you dare.

Dahlia

That would be so fun. You could always stay at our place? We have a perfectly comfy futon with your name on it. The next show is Friday if you’re down.

Rational thought has left the building. The part of my brain that knows this is a terrible idea just gave me the middle finger as I blatantly ignore all warning signs and hit send. Inviting my pseudo-crush-obsession who I need to friend zone to watch me strip then sleepover feels like a recipe for disaster. Either way, Wes agrees and says he can’t wait to see me.

Noisefrom the living room rouses me from my bed where I’ve hidden away all day. Daphne is chasing her cat Fernando, thelittle bastard speeding by me in a blur of orange fur. “He’s got the zoomies.”

She must read the look on my face, because she moves to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of me and looks up, patiently waiting for me to unload. I decide to join her and lay on the green shag carpet before word vomiting all of the overthinking I’ve done about Wes.

“Let me get this straight—you like him”— she starts listing on her fingers—“he seems to like you. He’s hot. You’re hot. You’re preemptively friend zoning him. Why?”

“Many, many reasons. I’m not interested in casual. I get far too attached for no-strings sex. Plus, between school and work, I’m way too stressed as it is. He also lives kinda far, right?”

“You’re forgetting your unchecked fear of intimacy and attachment issues, babe,” she jokes lovingly.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

“So what I’m hearing is you’re a scaredy cat and you’re using the friendzone to protect you from cowboy cock? You can’t seriously believe those are good enough reasons to deprive yourself of fun, at the very least. When’s the last time you went on a date? Shit, the last time you got laid?”

Daphne’s passion comes from a place of love but my lackluster relationships and non-existent sex life are for good reasons. Or so I tell myself. Being in a relationship would force me to confront way too many things at once, and I’m simply not built for that kind of self-exploration, no matter how sexually frustrated I am.

It’s safer alone and this way no one has to clean up the emotional mess I leave behind wherever I go. I’m too anxious, too needy, too much. The possibility of rejection or losing a friendship over my own flaws is a fate comparable to death. Death might be an exaggeration, but the nagging uneasecommenting on every thought I’ve had since I was a child begs to differ.

“I plead the fifth on my last sexual partner. We don’t speak of Crying Carl.”

With a shudder, I recall our tryst. I met Carl at Cunting Season last year. He seemed normal, so I assumed we could date without any issues. However, when I finally invited him to my bed, he cried during sex. Totally fine, sex is a vulnerable act, pussy’s too good—I was okay with it, understanding even. Waking up alone with a missing toothbrush and an emptied underwear drawer…You can guess why there was no second round.

“Just saying, I love you and you deserve love. Or at the very least a non-self induced orgasm. You could always message Sol. I’m sure she’d be down to see you again.”

I cringe thinking of yet another one of my sexual mishaps. Sol was hot, and she was a great kisser, but we were way too similar. It felt like I was literally fucking myself.

“I’ll leave it be for now. Plus, if you date Wes, I would have to be around Jasper more, and I don’t think my vagina would withstand the forceful dryness his existence creates.”

With a gentle nudge, I lay my head on Daphne’s shoulder. “I love you. Thank you for looking out for me. Any chance we’re gonna explore the correlation between your vaginal dryness and Jasper?” I tease.

“He sucks and he looks at me like I kicked his meemaw.”

“Whatever you say. Either way, he’ll probably be around this weekend. I invited Wes to sleep over. He’s coming to a show at Cunting Season. He said he’d bring Jasper so…” I trail off.