Category Archives: The Essence of Longing

The Porn Identity

CARL: Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?


CARL: Are you sure? We haven’t met? You look so familiar.


CARL: You’ve never seen me before?


CARL: That’s so weird–have you, like… Wait, have you ever been on TV?


CARL: Yeah.

SAMANTHA: Can’t say that I have.

CARL: Really? Wait, but what about…


CARL: Oh my God.

SAMANTHA: I’m… late for class–

CARL: Holy shit, it’s you!

SAMANTHA: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

CARL: You’re her, you’re… Hannah Havelock!

SAMANTHA: Never heard of her.

CARL: Hey, it may have taken me a while to recognize you with all your clothes on, but I never forget a face, especially, like… damn!

SAMANTHA: What do you want?

CARL: Fuck, I was right. Hey–

SAMANTHA: I don’t do that kind of stuff anymore. OK? My name is Samantha and I… I just want to go to college and… Please don’t tell anyone?

CARL: You’re a porn star.

SAMANTHA: Yes! OK, yes, I was a fucking porn star, can you keep your voice down?

CARL: Maybe…

SAMANTHA: I have a boyfriend.

CARL: Does he know about you? God damn! Did you really think just because you changed your hair-color, no one would recognize Hannah fucking Havelock?

SAMANTHA: Do not use that name!

CARL: Would you rather I called you Samantha? When I’m talking about your career in porn?

SAMANTHA: I’d rather you not talk about my career in porn at all.

CARL: Do you really have a boyfriend? Does he go here? Hey–one email blast, and I can tell everyone at this school who you really are. Is it so much to ask?

SAMANTHA: Is it so much to ask what?

CARL: You’re a porn star. You’ve fucked uglier guys than me. I know, ‘cause I’ve seen it. Is it ‘cause you expect me to pay you?

SAMANTHA: It’s because you’re a dick.

CARL: Never fucked one of those before?

SAMANTHA: What do you think porn is? What kind of stuff do you think we do there? You think the guys just get to go around doing whatever or whoever they want? Well, not anymore. Not the way we were doing it. When I worked in porn, I made sure that I met every single guy I ever worked with beforehand. That they respected me. I fucked them because I liked them, not because they goddamn blackmailed me. And I let them film it because it was my job. But it’s not anymore.

CARL: You don’t just stop being a star. Not without going nova.

SAMANTHA: You’re despicable.

CARL: You’re adorable. And I’m gonna tell your boyfriend if you don’t fuck me.


The Foundations of Decadence, part 2

MICHELLE: Are you sure you’re okay?

JEFFREY: I am good.

MICHELLE: Can I get you some water or anything?

JEFFREY: I make it a habit to chase every drink with a glass of water. Keeps the hangovers to a minimum.


JEFFREY: Hm. Dehydration. That’s the cause of most hangovers.

MICHELLE: I did not know that.

JEFFREY: Thank you.

MICHELLE: Are we gonna talk about it?

JEFFREY: You first.

MICHELLE: I think I’m in love with you.

JEFFREY: You’re right, I should’ve gone first. Look, Michelle–

MICHELLE: Look, no, I’m… I know that this is… I know that I’m the one who’s being naive here–

JEFFREY: You’re being idealistic. Romantic. That’s not the same thing.

MICHELLE: Kiss me?

JEFFREY: I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that.

MICHELLE: I asked you to–

JEFFREY: I know, but I didn’t–

MICHELLE: Shhh. Do you like me?

JEFFREY: I do. But not in the way that you mean.

MICHELLE: Could’ve fooled me.

JEFFREY: Michelle, what are you doing?

MICHELLE: What does it feel like I’m doing?

JEFFREY: Please stop.


JEFFREY: I just told you. Because I don’t want you that way.

MICHELLE: Feels like your body disagrees.

JEFFREY: My body isn’t in control. Or shouldn’t be—

MICHELLE: Then why don’t you stop me?

JEFFREY: I don’t know. Michelle, I’m drunk.

MICHELLE: You’re not that drunk.

JEFFREY: That shouldn’t matter. Why are you doing this?

MICHELLE: Because I want you to be my first.


MICHELLE: Does there have to be a reason?

JEFFREY: I don’t love you.

MICHELLE: I know. But I trust you.

JEFFREY: Darryl loves you.

MICHELLE: Is that what this is about?

JEFFREY: Partly. You don’t love him. You don’t want him. I think you two would be perfect for each other, but then, it’s not up to me, is it?

MICHELLE: Don’t you want to have sex?

JEFFREY: No. Not right now.

MICHELLE: I think you do.

JEFFREY: Opinions are a dime a dozen.

MICHELLE: Are you seriously going to fight me on this?

JEFFREY: The way things are right now… I don’t know why, but I don’t seem to have much choice in the matter.


JEFFREY: Normally, considering your virgin status, there are… certain steps I would take to try to make it more comfortable for you. But under the circumstances, the fact that I’m performing this service under duress…

MICHELLE: Just shut up and fuck me.

Withering Violet

JORDAN: I just had the weirdest fucking thing happen.

MALLORY: You and your weird-ass fucking things.

JORDAN: Can I talk about it? You got time to kinda…

MALLORY: Perform emotional labor?

JORDAN: Now why you gotta be like that? I do the same for you.

MALLORY: I do. Fine. What’s up.

JORDAN: OK, so… Oh, God. So, like.

MALLORY: Take your time, white boy.

JORDAN: So like a week ago, I’m at this party, right?

MALLORY: That party I told you not to go to ‘cause it’d be skeezy as shit?

JORDAN: Fuck. You did tell me that.


JORDAN: Well, it actually wasn’t that bad.

MALLORY: Mmm-hm.

JORDAN: At least, I didn’t think so at the time.

MALLORY: What happened?

JORDAN: OK, so there was this girl there.

MALLORY: All right, now I’m gonna stop you right there. Did you have sex with this girl at this dank-ass party?

JORDAN: You know exactly how long it has been since I’ve had sex.

MALLORY: That is not an excuse.

JORDAN: That wasn’t—that’s not what I meant: no, I did not have sex with the girl at the party.

MALLORY: OK, please continue.

JORDAN: I was a perfect gentleman at that party.

MALLORY: You were not a perfect gentleman at that dank-ass rave.

JORDAN: I was, I—

MALLORY: Jordan? I know you. You were polite and considerate. Polite and considerate people do not go to these dank-ass raves. Were you polite and considerate?

JORDAN: Well, I was trying to be!

MALLORY: And those bitch-ass dankheads wouldn’t let you, would they?

JORDAN: God dammit, Mallory.

MALLORY: You watch your language, boy, you in the South.

JORDAN: Sorry.

MALLORY: They thought you were punk-ass bitch, didn’t they?

JORDAN: A lot of them did, but this one girl…

MALLORY: Was she “different”, Jordan?

JORDAN: Well, that’s what I thought, anyway.

MALLORY: What did she do?

JORDAN: Laughed at my jokes?

MALLORY: Lawdy, lawdy.

JORDAN: Come on, you know how hard it can be to laugh at my jokes—I mean, to find people who’ll laugh at my jokes.

MALLORY: Remind me, you did not have sex with this girl?

JORDAN: She was really drunk.


JORDAN: But my God, was she hitting on me!

MALLORY: You at least get her number?

JORDAN: Got her name. Added her on Facebook. She didn’t get me back.

MALLORY: You try Instagram? You know nobody uses damn Facebook anymore.

JORDAN: You know I’m not good with technology.

MALLORY: Well, you best good with technology. You know how folks always saying you gots to get good with the Lord? Well, you know technology’s the Lord now!

JORDAN: Yeah, thanks.

MALLORY: So what did happen with this girl?

JORDAN: She pulled me into a room, a bedroom, not sure whose, don’t think it was hers, though. She kept trying to get me to make out, she took off her clothes, I kinda like, you know, looked away and stuff.

MALLORY: And stuff?

JORDAN: And shit. Sorry.

MALLORY: So you just looked away and shit?

JORDAN: That’s about when she threw up.

MALLORY: So you high-tailed it?

JORDAN: Well, I helped her clean up first.

MALLORY: You did not.

JORDAN: Should I have not?

MALLORY: Lawdy, lawdy.

JORDAN: Anyway, so yeah, I kinda tucked her in, what was left of her, and… well, I debated about turning the light on, but I didn’t.

MALLORY: That’s it? That’s the whole story?

JORDAN: No, that’s the part of the story that happened a week ago.

MALLORY: That’s what I thought. You see her again?

JORDAN: Oh my God, it was awkward.


JORDAN: Yeah, we did this thing where, like, I was looking at her, ‘cause like, I recognized her, but then she didn’t recognize me, so then I looked away, but then she did look at me and she did recognize me, so she came up to me all like—

MALLORY: “Why the fuck did you leave me alone and unconscious at a dank-ass rave?”

JORDAN: That was not the first thing she said.


JORDAN: The first thing was trying to remember who the fuck I was. She needed some, like, well, some, you know.

MALLORY: Needed some help with that one?

JORDAN: Yeah, so like, I told her and she remembered and she was all like “That’s right! Didn’t we have sex at that party?”

MALLORY: But you did not have sex with her at that party. Right?

JORDAN: Like I keep saying, no, I did not have sex with the… skank? Can I say skank? I probably shouldn’t—

MALLORY: Sounds pretty damn fair, though.

JORDAN: Anyway, no, I did not have sex with her, and I told her that, and she wouldn’t believe me!

MALLORY: Just ain’t enough gentlemen in the world, is there?

JORDAN: Right?

MALLORY: So was that the end of the story?


MALLORY: Oh, boy.

JORDAN: Because then the next thing was her being like “But then who the fuck did have sex with me at that party?”

MALLORY: Lawdy, lawdy.

JORDAN: So that’s when I put all the pieces together and I realize, holy shit, I’m not some gentleman, I’m the asshole who put her in a dark room, where she could be…

MALLORY: You gonna say it?

JORDAN: No, I’m not.

MALLORY: You’re not gonna even say it.

JORDAN: No, I’m not, and I’m gonna tell you why.


JORDAN: ‘Cause the next thing was, I start apologizing, and then she starts being like “Bitch, what the hell you apologizing to me for?” And so I explain, like, what’s upsetting me, and what I assume must be upsetting her? And she goes “Nuh-uh, you missed the fuck you, playa!”

MALLORY: She did not say that.

JORDAN: I don’t remember the words, but she was, like, she was angry with me for trying to apologize for leaving her in a dark room to be—and that’s when she said it, but then all like angry and shit.

MALLORY: Angry at you?

JORDAN: Angry at me, yeah, for apologizing. For thinking that I needed to, like…

MALLORY: Angry that you thought she needed protecting.

JORDAN: Angry that it hadn’t been me in that room.

MALLORY: Is that what she said?

JORDAN: I don’t know if she meant it, she was too charged up by that point, but yeah, that’s pretty much what she said. “Why wasn’t it you?” Why’d it have to be a stranger in the middle of the night and not the guy she’d been flirting with all evening? Like, am I missing something here? Like, it sounded like I should’ve stayed, right?

MALLORY: Probably shoulda called her a cab. Unless it was her place?

JORDAN: I couldn’t get a straight answer out of her on that count by that point, let alone an address. She seemed pretty confident in that room, though, that’s probably why I… well… Excuses.

MALLORY: You definitely should not have had sex with her.

JORDAN: Why would she have wanted me to?

MALLORY: She didn’t.

JORDAN: Are you sure, ‘cause, like, it really sounded like—

MALLORY: White boy, stop. You said she was unconscious?

JORDAN: Not that unconscious, she knew something happened later on.

MALLORY: She was unconscious.

JORDAN: Yeah, I wasn’t gonna… I wasn’t ever gonna.

MALLORY: Did you tell anybody about her?


MALLORY: Why not?

JORDAN: I didn’t really know anybody at the party. At least not anybody I…

MALLORY: Trusted?

JORDAN: I should’ve done more. I could’ve… maybe… But what could I do?

MALLORY: Hooked her up with a friend? A girl?

JORDAN: Right, ‘cause a girl couldn’t… It’s just, it sounded like… She made it sound like she wanted it to happen.

MALLORY: Don’t even go there.

JORDAN: I’m not, but like—

MALLORY: No, listen to yourself. What are you trying to justify?

JORDAN: I’m not trying to justify anything. I’m not saying how I would have done things differently, I don’t know what I should have done differently, other than, yeah, maybe trying to find someone who knew her before I left the party. But mainly, I’m just trying to understand… did she want something to happen?


JORDAN: Are you sure, ‘cause she made it sound like—

MALLORY: No. She did not want something to happen. That’s how you gotta see it, white boy. There are two possibilties here: either she had some kind of abusive pattern making her want things she shouldn’t, things that are gonna be bad for her in the long run, right? In which case, giving her those things she thinks she wants but doesn’t, that just makes you complicit in her derangement. That’s wrong from the get.

JORDAN: Right.

MALLORY: So what’s the other possibility? Well, the other possibility, however far-fetched it may be, was that she actually did genuinely want somebody to fuck her while she was unconscious in that dank-ass room. So let me ask you this: did you want to be the guy to fuck her in that dank-ass room while she was unconscious?


MALLORY: You didn’t? Well, why the hell not? Was it because you didn’t want to run the risk of it being the first option and you being the asshole who added to her self-destructive behavior?

JORDAN: I guess that’s part of it, maybe.

MALLORY: What’s the other part? Could it be that maybe, just maybe, you just didn’t want to be the guy having sex with an unconscious woman you just met at some dank-ass bitch of a house party?

JORDAN: Yeah, that just… I don’t think of that as… I just wouldn’t even think of that.

MALLORY: You would be uncomfortable. Sex should not be uncomfortable, though, so why would you even ask if that’s what you should’ve done?

JORDAN: Because I’m a pathetic shithead?

MALLORY: Is that why it didn’t even occur to you that it was the right thing to do until she brought it up?

JORDAN: I don’t know what the right answer is here.

MALLORY: You should’ve found someone there who knew her. Told enough people she was there they could’ve policed each other. Women, especially. Gone from there.

JORDAN: … Should I have gotten her number?

MALLORY: Girl didn’t remember who you were and thought she’d had sex with you. No, you should not have gotten her number.

The Unveiling

ETHAN: Hey, don’t I know you?

FATIMA: I don’t think so.

ETHAN: Sorry, I mean to freak you out.

FATIMA: You don’t freak me out. Do I freak you out?

ETHAN: Why would you freak me out? Weren’t you at the market today?

FATIMA: You noticed me?

ETHAN: Of course I did. Sorry. Am I embarrassing you? I guess it’s a bit of a faux pas to compliment a woman wearing a veil.

FATIMA: Is it?

ETHAN: Well, isn’t it?

FATIMA: Is that what you’re doing? Complimenting?

ETHAN: It’s what I meant. Beauty like yours is hard to miss. Wow, now I sound cheesy on top of being a creep. I’m sorry.

FATIMA: Why is that creepy? Because you don’t know me?

ETHAN: Because you don’t know me.

FATIMA: Who are you?

ETHAN: Um. My name’s Ethan.

FATIMA: Hello, Ethan. I am Fatima. Pleased to meet you.


FATIMA: Now we are not strangers. Is it still creepy?

ETHAN: … Little bit, yeah.

FATIMA: Are you freaked out? Do you think I’m creepy?


FATIMA: Are you sure?

ETHAN: I’m just nervous about how you think of me.

FATIMA: Then why did you come over here to talk?

ETHAN: I don’t know.

FATIMA: You don’t?

ETHAN: I noticed you because… you were walking alone and you turned around real suddenly, and your eyes… I’d never seen eyes like that. Not angry, just… strong.

FATIMA: You liked my eyes?

ETHAN: I know. Like I said. Cheesy.

FATIMA: Why do you think that I wear this?

ETHAN: I mean I know it’s traditional. For muslims.

FATIMA: You assume I am muslim?

ETHAN: Aren’t you?

FATIMA: I am. But that’s not why I wear the Veil. In Saudi Arabia, it’s the law, but I’m not in Saudi Arabia. I’m in America. I don’t have to wear it—in fact, I’m arguably in more danger when I do.

ETHAN: So why do you wear it? Oh, you want me to guess? Are you flirting with me?

FATIMA: What do you think the Veil is for?

ETHAN: I’ve always been told headscarves are to hide your hair because the sight of a woman’s hair drives a man wild—but of course that didn’t stop me.

FATIMA: Which is why you were so awkward.

ETHAN: So is that it? You want to weed out advances from men who are only after your hair?

FATIMA: My hair is really not that impressive.

ETHAN: No, you’re tougher than that. You don’t have to wear the Veil, but if you do… if you do, people will know who you are. What you are. And if they judge you for it—

FATIMA: Now I know who they are. Would you like to have a drink, Ethan?

ETHAN: With you?

FATIMA: I thought that was obvious.

ETHAN: Don’t you have a brother or an uncle or cousin who’ll beat me up if I do.

FATIMA: My brother has bigger things to worry about. And besides, why would they worry? Do you intend to behave shamefully? Or to make me behave shamefully?

ETHAN: Do you want me to be honest? I just feel like honesty is the best defense in a situation like this.

FATIMA: Do you feel under attack?

ETHAN: I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel…

FATIMA: Threatened?

ETHAN: Uneasy. More like… threatening. And not wanting to be.

FATIMA: I don’t feel threatened.

ETHAN: Maybe you should.

FATIMA: Why? What will you do to me?

ETHAN: Is that your only concern? What I will do?

FATIMA: Why be concerned with anything less? What do you intend to do to me? You promised to be honest.

ETHAN: I wouldn’t say it was my “intentions” I wanted to be honest about.

FATIMA: You want to be dishonest about those?

ETHAN: I don’t intend anything harmful or shameful, so honesty’s not really a factor.

FATIMA: I’m afraid you’ve lost me. Where does the honesty fit in?

ETHAN: Feelings. It’s not about what I will do or in intend to do. It’s about what I want to do.

FATIMA: You want to ravage me—


FATIMA: You want to rip this Veil off my head—

ETHAN: Jeez—

FATIMA: You want to liberate me from my bonds and grant me your Western Freedoms.

ETHAN: Oh, come on.

FATIMA: Then what? What do you want to do to me?

ETHAN: I want to woo you. I want to woo you the way no woman has been woo’d here in the West for fifty years. I want to make you swoon. I want to spin you up in a web of honest truths and make you dizzy. I want those flashing eyes of yours on me and I want to be worthy of their devotion. I want… you. Not for simple carnal purposes. I crave idolatry. What I want is your devotion. There. Have I shocked you yet?

FATIMA: Was that your intention?

ETHAN: I just told you my intention. What is yours?

FATIMA: You spoke of idolatry.

ETHAN: I tend to wax poetic.

FATIMA: Was that because you wanted to shock me? To scare me off? Test my muslim sensibilities?

ETHAN: Have I scared you off?

FATIMA: No. No, I think you have fascinated me. So how about that drink?

It Ain’t Cheatin’ If The’e Ain’t No Rules

PETE: Dude, use the cheats.

HARRY: Why they call ‘em cheats anyway?

PETE: Are you high?

HARRY: Ain’t no rules in a game like this.

PETE: Fuck you talking about? Course there’s rules.

HARRY: What? Like how fast you run? How high you jump? How hard you wreck a bitch? Those ain’t rules. That’s straight-up mechanics. So a cheat’s not a cheat, dog. That’s some straight-up magic.

PETE: Why don’t you use it?

HARRY: Bitch, do I look like a motherfucking wizard to you? Aw, fuck.

DICK: I gotta talk to you.

HARRY: I ain’t listening to that shit.

PETE: The fuck? What’s going on?

DICK: This here idioting hairball—

HARRY: The fuck you just call me?

DICK: Just broke up with his girlfriend.

PETE: Aw, shit.

HARRY: Yeah, I dumped her cheatin’ ass.

PETE: She was cheating on you?

DICK: Like shit she was.

PETE: With who?

HARRY: Motherfucking Boris.

PETE: What? Nuh-uh.

DICK: You don’t believe it? Good, ‘cause it’s bullshit.

HARRY: I know what I know.

DICK: I am telling you, she is a virgin, for fuck’s sake!

HARRY: And how the fuck you know that? Huh? Oh, wait, wait, wait, no. Oh, no, I know this one. Your girlfriend told you, right? Right? Her cousin told him, see? And it’s not like Trish would lie, right? Not like Claudette would lie to her, right? About being a ho, about how she let some fucking Russian fuck get in and plow—

DICK: What the fuck is your problem?

HARRY: You don’t think I should have a problem with my girlfriend cheating on me?

DICK: I don’t think your girlfriend is cheating on you!

HARRY: Hey, man, weren’t you the one like five minutes ago telling me I shouldn’t be hooking up with bitches only want my money?

PETE: Dude has a point. That was two days ago.

HARRY: Oh, but see now you’re actually out there getting some pussy. Now things is different, huh? Now you’re all nice. See, before, you weren’t out there, so you were all “bitches be hoes”, but now? You got yourself whipped, son.

PETE: How’d you find out, though?

HARRY: Who’s at the damn door?

DICK: Trish.

PETE: Hey, Trish. What’s happening?

TRISH: She’s dead.

HARRY: The fuck?

TRISH: You killed her. Do you hear me, motherfucker? You killed her!

HARRY: Hey, hey! I didn’t do shit!

TRISH: What the fuck did she ever do to you?

HARRY: You know damn well what that bitch did to me—

TRISH: Don’t you dare talk about her that way. I have known that—I knew… that girl… You son of a lying whore.

HARRY: Dick, you best get your bitch outta my face, or I swear to pretty blonde Jesus—

PETE: Uh… Jesus was black?

HARRY: You shut your whore mouth, Pete!

TRISH: No, you listen to me. That girl loved you with all her soul. She lived for you. And then she died for you. And for what? ‘Cause you wanted some booty?

HARRY: I ain’t the only one chasing tail.

TRISH: But you were the only one who caught her. Or you could have.

HARRY: Tell that to motherfucking Boris.

TRISH: Dude, would you stop with the Boris—

HARRY: Hey, look, I’m not saying it ain’t sad she’s dead. But she wasn’t no saint.

TRISH: Why the fuck do you think she slept with Boris? Did Boris tell you?

HARRY: No, man, Johnny told me.

PETE: Hold on, Johnny told you?

HARRY: I mean, yeah.

PETE: And you believed him?

TRISH: You stupid fucking piece of shit.

HARRY: What? He said he caught them!

PETE: Johnny’s just trying to start some shit.

HARRY: Why would Johnny want to start shit?

PETE: ‘Cause he’s a asshole. He’s my brother, I should know.

HARRY: So hold up… you’re sayin’…

PETE: We’re saying you got played, dipshit. And now that poor girl’s dead.

HARRY: But how do you know?

PETE: Bitch, are you oxygen deprived? Holy shit, y’all, this motherfucker—

HARRY: What?

TRISH: Now you want proof she was innocent all along, but did you ask Johnny for proof she was guilty?

HARRY: Aw, shit.

DICK: You’re damn right, aw shit.

HARRY: I killed her. I killed my baby. Claudette… aw, shit, Claudette. No! No! Why? She was my girl, Dick. My girl… what did I do?

DICK: Fucking killed her, Harry.

PETE: Like you handed her the knife yourself.

HARRY: I didn’t want her to do! Shit… my angel… didn’t do nothing wrong, but then… Claudette… Claudette! I’m sorry. I’m so… so sorry…

PETE: How did it happen?

TRISH: How’d what happen?

PETE: Did she kill herself?

TRISH: Oh, no, she’s fine.

HARRY: What?

DICK: Hold on—

PETE: I’m sorry—

TRISH: Yeah, no, she started crying, we started talking shit—

HARRY: Motherfucker!

TRISH: Set up a little dart-board for her with your face on it, face is all full of holes now.

HARRY: The fuck you do that for?

PETE: Girl, that is some fucked up shit.

TRISH: You wanna talk fucked up shit? Get your ass in line. I told this motherfucker his ex girlfriend killed herself, less than twenty-four damn hours after he dumped her on her birthday and dude’s like “Not my problem”. Fuck me? Fuck you! And the hotrod motorcycle you rode in on. Hey, Dick, you coming?

DICK: Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming. I’m coming with you, how ‘bout that?

HARRY: Pete?

PETE: Shut the fuck up, Harry.

HARRY: But how was I supposed to—

PETE: Harry? Shut the fuck up.


SEANA: Do you have a crush on me?



JORDAN: Does that surprise you?

SEANA: No… I mean, just that you’re so… I mean, I didn’t expect you to just…

JORDAN: Why should I hide it?

SEANA: Well, I mean, you’ve been hiding it.

JORDAN: Well, I mean, but you obviously know. Now. So.

SEANA: But why were you hiding it before?

JORDAN: I mean, why does anyone hide anything? Embarrassment?

SEANA: You were embarrassed to like me?

JORDAN: I was embarrassed to have a crush on you.


JORDAN: Crushes are embarrassing!


JORDAN: You like someone, they don’t like you…

SEANA: How do you know I don’t like you?

JORDAN: Well, you don’t exactly shower me with… anything. Most of the time, you act like I’m not even there. You hardly even look at me, let alone…

SEANA: And it never occurred to you that maybe that had something to do with me having a crush on you?

JORDAN: … No. Wait, do you have a crush on me?


JORDAN: Then why would you even say that?

SEANA: I don’t know!

JORDAN: Why are you even bringing this up?

SEANA: I don’t know. There’s just… there’s a lot of stuff going on and I’m just trying to figure it all out, you know, put the pieces together. It’s like everyone I know, no one’s really…


SEANA: I don’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?

JORDAN: I didn’t want to get in the way.

SEANA: Doesn’t being around your crush kind of get in your way?

JORDAN: I didn’t want to get in your way. People act different around people who like them, even and maybe especially if they don’t like them back. It makes them uncomfortable. Aren’t you uncomfortable?

SEANA: I guess. But how can you know someone likes you if you don’t ask them?

JORDAN: You know. Well, theoretically. You don’t like me, though. Right?

SEANA: I mean, I like you…

JORDAN: Even knowing what you know?

SEANA: You’re the one with a crush.

JORDAN: Crushes are annoying, though. You’re not annoyed?

SEANA: I don’t know. You’re not really doing anything.

JORDAN: But then how did you know?

SEANA: Keisha told me.

JORDAN: Keisha told you? Oh my God!

SEANA: Don’t be mad!

JORDAN: Why the hell did Keisha tell you?

SEANA: How do I know? We all know she’s a backstabbing bitch.

JORDAN: She’s not a backstabbing—well…

SEANA: See? The more you know. What’s it like for you, though?

JORDAN: What do you mean?

SEANA: Isn’t it hard to be around me? Isn’t that what… what a crush is? Isn’t that why they call it a crush?

JORDAN: I guess so. I don’t know. I guess it’s more a matter of, I know that I like you and I know that you’re not interested, but because I like you, I don’t know. I want you to be happy.

SEANA: You just said I always ignore you.

JORDAN: You don’t always ignore me. Sometimes you smile. Just not…

SEANA: Right.


Having to Choose

TAYLOR: Having fun down here?

JARED: Fuck off, Taylor.

TAYLOR: We need to talk.

JARED: I got nothing to say to you.

TAYLOR: Oh, I’m sure you got plenty to say to me right now.

JARED: Look, just fuck off, okay? You won, don’t know why the fuck you’d be here to begin with. Huh? Shouldn’t you be off celebrating or something? With her?

TAYLOR: Is that how you think of this? Like it’s some kind of competition? I never wanted to fight you for her.

JARED: All right, what the fuck do you want? Huh? You gloating?

TAYLOR: Hell, no. I’m not that guy. Least I try not to be.

JARED: Then what?

TAYLOR: I had a… proposition. I know you… well, I know how you feel—at least, I have some idea. And I know how much Kylie… struggled trying to decide, well, which of us… I just thought maybe there might be a way to make things easier on everyone.

JARED: The fuck are you talking about?

TAYLOR: Why make her choose?

JARED: The fuck?

TAYLOR: Look… I’m not the jealous type. I know jealousy is paradoxically this trait that we value in our society, much as we bad-mouth and pooh-pooh it in our rhetoric, we still have this assumption… I’ve never felt it. I know how Kylie feels about me, I know how Kylie feels about you… And I gotta say, I don’t hate you for it. I actually think you’re pretty decent. Most of the time, anyway.

JARED: Why are you doing this?

TAYLOR: Because I want her to be happy.

JARED: Uh-huh—why are you really doing this?

TAYLOR: God’s honest?

JARED: If you don’t mind.

TAYLOR: I like you. I don’t want us to be enemies.

JARED: What exactly do you expect us to be? Us both being in love with the same girl?

TAYLOR: All right. I get it. You’re not open to that, and that’s fine.

JARED: What exactly did you expect me to be open to?

TAYLOR: Forget it. Forget it. I apologize. I’ll fuck off now—

JARED: Are you gay?

TAYLOR: Not exactly.

JARED: Are you wanting to… Like, with me?

TAYLOR: The thought had crossed my mind. But I’ll understand if…

JARED: If I don’t want to fuck you while I’m fucking her. If I don’t want you there.

TAYLOR: She’s the one you’re in love with. Right?

JARED: I don’t fucking get you, man.

TAYLOR: It’s OK. Little off the beaten path. I dig. Just… let me know if you ever change your mind. I’ll make you dinner or someting.

JARED: Just fuck off.