Please Send Help

by Gaby Dunn

  The most fucked-up part of all this is how incredible my costume was. Turns out, Lyle Rainbow is quite the seamster and he managed to make me a full Babadook costume while I was at work. (We all know the B in LGBT stands for Babadook.) I wanted to invite him to the party but I was too embarrassed to tell him I was going to a biker fund-raiser. So we parted ways around 8PM so he could go meet up with his beach friends and I could lose all of my dignity for the sake of a Southern threesome.

  In typical Coralee fashion, she didn’t even text me the address until I was already on my way there (one of Phyllis’s kids was going and I snagged the info from him earlier. Southern people might be racist and homophobic but they are very polite.)

  It took me a full hour of scaring the shit out of people before I found her. Turns out, the Babadook is not as popular as we think. At least not when it’s homemade and female. Up to three different members of the motorcycle club asked if I was at the wrong party. I don’t think they meant this as an insult. I think they were genuinely concerned on my behalf.

  I finally spotted Coralee in the middle of a keg stand. Girl after my own heart. Or so I thought. She was dressed as slutty Dorothy, which I think we can all agree is a timeless costume. A loud squeal emanated from her tiny body as she rushed to me and buried her head in my chest. She then kissed me RIGHT ON THE LIPS, causing her to get black Babadook lip stain all over her angelic face. Now, you know me, and I love a spontaneous makeout session, but this seemed a little too brazen even for old Gen. Her very hetero and probably conservative boyfriend was RIGHT there. I’m not here to steal your girl. I’m here to share your girl. Ya know?

  After sticking her tiny tongue in my mouth (she has the tiniest tongue of anyone I have ever tongued), she dragged me over to meet Deacon Mason, who is much shorter in real life. He’s barely five ten. But built like a wrestler with a steroid addiction. I went to shake his hand, man to man, but he swooped down and kissed my cheek instead.

  DEACON MASON: “So nice to meet the little lady’s friend from the big city!”

  What big city?? Los Angeles? Boston? Jacksonville? Also, FRIEND?? I’ve seen more of your little lady than you have, sir. Because I like to GET IN THERE, not just visit!

  This should have been the first tip-off that things were not going to go my way. But I had already chugged some brewskies with my new boys so I was feeling less skeptical. Coralee pulled me and Deacon, who was wearing a vintage Dan Marino jersey as a costume, into a gazebo so we could “get to know each other better.” This was a mistake. I should never try to “get to know” anyone.

  Another BIG mistake was asking them how they met. Apparently, neither could remember? It was “sometime” “at night” and she looked “good” so they had to “you know” and now they are “so happy, right baby?” Straight people terrify me.

  The conversation eventually turned to my history with Coralee and that’s where things get f-ed. I’m pretty drunk so I sort of mimic Deacon’s story and say things like “we met at night” and “she looked good.” His good natured dough-y face was now turning into one of confusion. I was talking about his girlfriend as an object of sexual desire and it fucking rocked his world. He literally interrupted me to ask—

  “Wait. Are you gay?”

  As if my Babadook costume didn’t speak for itself! He didn’t understand the reference so I explained I preferred the word queer. Or bi. In honor of my costume. He, again, didn’t understand this reference and looked shocked.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a gay girl in real life.”

  I replied: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You’re dating one!

  Now, in retrospect, I should not have said this for a variety of reasons.

  1) I have no right to define another person’s sexuality even if I have had sex with that person.

  2) He clearly had no idea that Coralee was anything other than pin straight.

  I guess it was only two big reasons but still! I fucked up. I do not think that excused what happened next, which was a complete denial of Coralee’s and my shared history.

  Before Deacon Mason could fully (if ever) comprehend my comment, Coralee swooped in and said that I had a bit of a crush on her but it had never led to anything other than a few public makeouts for the benefit of the mostly male GOTCHA clientele. “Who doesn’t like watching a few girls kiss, babydoll?”

  Yes, she calls Deacon Mason “babydoll.” Deacon seemed to think for a minute, although there is no way to know for sure what is going on in there, before grumbling, “Don’t seem fair that two girls were kissing and I didn’t get to see it.”

  DON’T SEEM FAIR, SIR?! That two women are able to have sexual experiences for the sake of themselves and not the male gaze!

  I was unable to get this important point out before Coralee’s tiny tongue was back in my mouth! But this time I knew it had nothing to do with me. I was a sex toy to her. Not a person. So I pushed her off and cursed them both in the Babadook’s native language! (Which basically amounts to loud, guttural screams.) I ran from the gazebo and somehow found my way home without losing my top hat.

  I went to bed crying while also eating nachos.

  I hate men. I hate Coralee. And I hate Florida.

  MY HEART IS NOT A PLAYGROUND! GO PLAY SOMEWHERE ELSE! YOU DUMB DICK!

  G

  4:25 PM

  Are you alive?

  5:12 PM

  I guess.

  Did you see my email?

  I sorta skimmed it. Haven’t really done much today.

  …

  If I only sorta skimmed your emails you would fly to Florida and strangle me.

  I guess I don’t really see what the big deal is.

  Wow.

  You knew she was straight. It’s not like she was gonna come out to her alpha boyfriend in front of all his friends.

  I really hope this is the herpes talking …

  That’s not funny.

  Jesus.

  Let me know if you can ever bother yourself enough to read it.

  UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR

  Gen Goldman

  11/4/19

  to Ava

  Look, I get it. You have herpes and your whole life is falling apart. But I have a life too and it is also falling apart. I mean, not really, but I did have a horrible Halloween weekend. Alright maybe not the whole weekend but Friday was awful and I needed my best friend and you WERE NOT THERE. That is fucked up.

  But, in the spirit of my favorite holiday, I will preemptively forgive you. Mostly because I now live in the middle of nowhere and can’t afford to lose one more iota of my social life. Texting you counts as part of my social life, right?

  Luckily for both of us, I had Lyle Rainbow to lick my wounds. We went trick-or-treating together, mostly to freak people out. Tabby refused to wear her Princess Leia costume so we had to leave her and the babies at home. I got five different packages of Skittles* so it was a pretty great night!

  I also reached out to Alex who was surprisingly empathetic about the situation. (You can’t be mad at me for reaching out! You left me NO choice.) He made me realize I should pity Coralee. She’s too afraid to be herself. That’s her problem, not mine. He might come visit. I don’t know!

  HAVE YOU LEFT YOUR BED? WHERE IS DANA?

  If you don’t answer me soon I will have no choice but to call your parents, young lady.

  G

  *Still not sponsored by Skittles but remaining hopeful.

  P.S. I have my interview with the mayor’s COS today. Wish me luck, patience and the ability to not get kicked out of City Hall.

  3:45 PM

  If I was a dog my tail would be between my legs in shame.

  You would be such a cute dog.

  I’m sorry, Gen. I really spiraled this weekend.

  It’s okay. I only hold grudges against men.

  I did a bad thing …

  I know! You ignored me all weekend!

  Right. I did two bad things.

  Ooooo do tel
l.

  Too long to text.

  Is it safe to say you are still alive or are these texts from the afterlife?

  I wish I was dead.

  Or in some sort of simulation.

  Oh, we are definitely in a simulation.

  The real question is, what kind!

  I hope it’s the kind with a reset button.

  Based on my extensive research, that is highly unlikely.

  Fuck.

  I WILL NOT BE IGNORED

  Ava Helmer

  11/4/19

  to Gen

  I wish I was just making a Fatal Attraction reference and not actually quoting one of the many things I screamed this weekend. My throat is actually sore. How do people on reality TV scream at each other so much? They must take vocal training.

  Our stakeout started out really well. Dana and I went and got donuts and coffee (well, cronuts and lattes) before hiding behind a van on Ben’s block. Did I wish we had a car to wait in? Absolutely! Did I refuse to sit on the sidewalk the entire time because of the germs? You betcha! So now my ego and my legs are extremely sore.

  After about an hour of shitting on Ben’s taste in comedy we realized we had never checked to see if he was home. So Dana gave me a pep talk before sending me across the street and up the stairs. Here are highlights from said talk:

  1) In the grand scheme of life, Ben does not matter. He was a part of my story but will not be a part of my future.

  2) He does not have any right to shame me for having herpes. We had consensual sex and I was unaware of my condition at the time. I am not at fault at all and am going above and beyond to tell him in person.

  3) Try to stay calm, cool and collected. He is not worth my emotional energy.

  4) Look him right in the eye. It’s harder to challenge someone when they are looking you right in the eye.

  Spoiler alert: the moment I walked across the street his words of wisdom evaporated and I was driven by pure animal instinct. In a bad way. Animals are not great at rationally resolving conflict.

  I was able to follow an elderly lady into the building so I didn’t have to buzz up, allowing for a “sneak attack.” Just as I was bracing myself to knock, the door swung open. INTO MY FACE. Yes, he hit me with the door. Because when it rains, it pours public humiliation and physical agony.

  I’m not the best at picking up on social cues, but I think it was rather obvious Ben was NOT happy to see me. Mostly because he saw me and said, “Fuck. Why are you here?” I replied: “You just hit me in the face.”

  Things were not off to a good start.

  BEN: “Can we do this later? I’m running late.”

  A SHALLOW SHELL OF MYSELF: “Can we do WHAT later? You don’t even know why I’m here.”

  BEN: “I can deduce. And I don’t have time for either option.”

  A SHALLOW SHELL OF MYSELF: “Which are…”

  *shockingly long eye roll for a straight guy*

  BEN: “One: you want to yell at me. Two: you want to get back together and when I say no, you will yell at me.”

  ARE YOU SERIOUS??? The audacity! I would NEVER assume someone wanted to get back together with me unless they did something incredibly dramatic, like getting my name tattooed on their arm! Even then, I would be like, “Is this a prank?”

  A FURIOUS SHALLOW SHELL OF MYSELF: “I’m not here to yell at you—”

  BEN: “You’re yelling right now.”

  A FURIOUS SHALLOW SHELL OF MYSELF: “I have herpes! I came here to tell you I have herpes.”

  *brief pause*

  BEN: “That sucks. I’m sorry. But I really have to run—”

  A FURIOUS SHALLOW SHELL OF MYSELF: “What?! I just told you I have herpes! And we’ve slept together!”

  BEN: “I know and that sucks. But this place does not hold reservations if you’re later than like five minutes—”

  A FURIOUS SHALLOW SHELL OF MYSELF: “Aren’t you worried you might have—Oh, my god. You already know. BECAUSE YOU GAVE IT TO ME!”

  BEN: “Keep your voice down. We can talk about it later.”

  A FURIOUS SHALLOW SHELL OF MYSELF: “No! We will talk about this now! Unless you want me to go to the police!”

  BEN: “Why would you go to the police?”

  A FURIOUS SHALLOW SHELL OF MYSELF: “Because you didn’t disclose your STI status! That is a sexual crime!”

  BEN: “That’s only for HIV. I’ve googled it.”

  A FURIOUS SHALLOW SHELL OF MYSELF: “You’ve GOOGLED IT! Because you know what you’re doing is bad?!”

  BEN: “I haven’t had an outbreak in years. You might not even have gotten it from me—”

  This is when I went into a guttural scream, while Ben took off down the stairs. In case you’re worried that I didn’t cause enough of a scene, don’t be: I followed him. Still screaming. By the time we hit the ground floor, Ben was completely ignoring me. But that didn’t stop me from giving him every single piece of my mind! Including my thoughts on his stand-up (sexist, unoriginal, too much setup with too little payoff). My voice must have really carried, since Dana was waiting at the front door to intercept. This did not go over well with Ben, who I now think is a demon sent from hell to test me.

  BEN: “Seriously? You brought this guy? Can’t we keep our shit between us?”

  A SCREAMING LUNATIC NAMED AVA: “He knew! He knew he had herpes and he didn’t tell me!”

  DANA: “I heard. From across the street.”

  BEN: “Can we do this later? I’m gonna lose this reservation and I booked it weeks ago—”

  A SCREAMING LUNATIC NAMED AVA: “You don’t deserve to eat!”

  *Dana attempts to subdue the lunatic with a calm presence and points of reason. Lunatic ignores this and tries to hit Ben with purse only to fail, having little experience hitting people with over-the-shoulder bags. The straps are never as long as you want them to be.*

  A SCREAMING LUNATIC NAMED AVA: “This isn’t over! You can’t just walk away from me!”

  *Ben walks away while an older couple stares. They’re not angry. But they are disappointed.*

  AND THAT WAS MY SUNDAY!

  I wish I could say it was my worst Sunday on record but we both know that isn’t even true … (RIP junior year vomit pants. I don’t miss you.)

  This disaster of a morning is obviously not an excuse for ignoring you, but I clearly have not been in a good headspace. I even thought about calling in sick to work today, but I didn’t want to make it that easy on Ben. Joke’s on me. HE called in sick! What a little sleazeball coward!

  I mean it’s probably for the best since I usually need a full forty-eight hours to calm down, but STILL. How dare he not show his evil, normal-oily face! (It used to be full oily but I bought him this really nice face wash from Kiehl’s when I still thought he was deserving of basic beauty care.)

  I want to warn Lacie about him since they are still obviously hanging out, but Dana said he should do it to avoid unnecessary “drama” (aka me being overly dramatic). He has been so levelheaded and rational about this whole thing. Most people would have told me to check myself into a psych ward by now so I would leave them alone. Is it bad if I feel conflicted about telling Lacie? She would be the first person to know about the big H other than my closest friends (2) and family (also 2). Once five people know about something it’s pretty much on the tip of going public … PLUS if I know Ben at all (which I maybe don’t) they’ve probably already had (unprotected) sex so what would the point be of exposing myself anyway??

  Wow. I’m gonna need you to delete this immediately after reading. I seem awful! And possibly a threat to society.

  A

  Re: I WILL NOT BE IGNORED

  Gen Goldman

  11/4/19

  to Ava

  HOLY SHITE! And you know I only use British slang when I’m REALLY pissed!

  What a Francesco Schettino! (That’s the cruise captain who abandoned ship before his passengers. It’s important to get
creative when calling someone a coward. You have to really stick it to them.)

  On the one hand, Ben’s behavior is so deplorable I find myself absolutely and completely SHOOK.

  On the second hand, huh? Maybe we should have seen this coming. Not the secret herpes or his obsession with getting to a reservation on time per se, but his general douchiness and disregard for women and probably people in general. I know I’ve never met the guy in person but I have spent far more time than I will ever admit creeping on his social. And I got to tell ya, those Instagram captions? Clearly the work of a psychopath. He did a #tbt on a WEDNESDAY. Who does he think he is? Obama?

  I’m glad he called in sick to work. Normally I don’t promote violence … Actually that’s not true. I think I might actually promote violence a lot. But only when these dickheads really deserve it.

  Speaking of dickheads, I had my meeting at the mayor’s office just now. I was scheduled to meet with the COS but was handed over to his assistant. Sheila, age unknown but possibly only twelve, refused to answer any of my questions and instead wrote them all down to relay to her boss. WHO I WAS SUPPOSED TO SPEAK TO IN THE FIRST PLACE. I felt like I had shown up on a first date, all dolled up and optimistic, only to find a robot sent in place of my future wife. And not even a cute, charming robot! A robotic robot who is clearly still in the beta presale phase. I don’t think Sheila’s facial muscles moved once. Even when she was talking! Maybe that’s why she looked prepubescent. She could have been fifty-five!

  What if this whole journey was leading me to Sheila … an undercover, top-secret government robot? Is it obvious I’ve been watching too much “recommended in sci-fi” on Netflix?

  The only good that came from this was Beau’s surprising indignation at my mayoral shun. He took it upon himself to call up his old friend and demand an in-person interview unless the chief of staff wants us looking into his background instead. Specifically, the summer of 2004. I now have another interview with the COS and the MAYOR(!) on Thursday! Say what you will about the ethics of entrapping your coworker with a fictional Facebook account, Beulah has done wonders for Beau’s self-esteem. Wonders!