Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
So, I went to the guy's apartment, and I kissed him and he took his dick out—
Really, just like that—
And I went with it. Why not? It could be fun.
Maybe Meredith would have had fun.
I didn't.
I practically ran out of the guy's apartment after.
He had no idea I had a bad time. He invited me on a second date. He wanted to see me again. He thought I’d want to see him again.
Are all men that oblivious or am I that bad at picking a good one?
"What if we just message someone on an app?" she asks. "We could flirt. Send pictures even. That could be fun. We could even do an episode on early dating flirting. How do you keep it spicy without going into full on sexting?" She stretches her arms over her head, pulling her short dress up her legs. She's dressed the way she always is—like a cool chick on an indefinite vacation. Her pale blue dress and white sneakers look just right against her tan skin too.
She always knows exactly what to wear.
She always knows, well, everything.
Like me, Meredith doesn't fit into the sterile suburbs. Unlike me, she doesn't even let it hinder her. She flies her freak flag proudly.
She'd happily share her dirty stories as hers. In fact, that was the original version of the podcast. The sex therapist and her freaky friend. One professional. One highly experienced amateur.
We started the podcast as a lark. Because we got so many comments on our dynamic. Because we both needed a way to look at sex more objectively.
And we both fell in love, right away.
We didn’t take off immediately, but we did well enough.
Then, one week, she was out sick, and I shared a story on her behalf, and we took off. People loved the idea of the sultry sex therapist. A woman who gives professional advice and knows from experience.
She lent me her stories, and I shared them as my own.
It was supposed to be a short-term thing. I had a husband. He was available as a test subject for any experimentation. In theory.
Only he wasn’t. If I’m honest with myself, that’s why I started the podcast. That’s why I went into this field.
Like so many therapists before me, I decided to solve everyone else’s problems because I couldn’t solve my own. And people had problems.
I knew far before I married him too. I chose this program a year before we got engaged. We got married a year after that. Things worked pretty well when I poured my sexuality into my work and expected nothing from him. Only that wasn’t enough, so I started the show.
And then when that wasn’t enough, and I tried using my sex therapy skills on my relationship, well—
At least I saw the light quickly, when I finally paid attention. After three months of trying, and failing, to connect, I served him papers. The divorce was quick. And painful. And now I have no idea how I ever loved the man, much less stayed for the better part of a decade.
Which was fine. All the better to experiment, right? The divorced sex therapist getting her groove back. It was a perfect pitch…
But I couldn't do it.
I didn't set out to lie.
I just didn't catch up to the truth as quickly as I thought I would.
"Right now?" I ask.
"Do you need me to babysit?" she asks.
I nod.
She laughs and pats the spot next to her.
I take a long sip of gin and sit on the couch next to her. This close, I feel the warmth of my best friend's presence. And the anxiety of my producer. And the contrast between us.
She's effortlessly cool and sexy.
I'm hopelessly not either of those things.
I download a dating app and resurrect my long-lost profile.
Meredith takes the phone and takes to swiping for me. She ignores a tall guy in a suit. "Too uptight for you." She likes a Brad Pitt lookalike with a surfboard. "A surfer could be good. Laid back." But he's not a match.
She falls into the flow pretty fast, smiling as she deems men worthy or unworthy of me.
I'm not sure this is what the show needs, but, hey, it's something. That's more than I've got. And it feels good falling into Meredith's care. She's the older sister I never had.
Meredith and I met at UCI. She was from Garden Grove. Even though she grew up in the Vietnamese part of the county, she always felt out of place. Maybe because her parents where strict Buddhists, and most of her neighbors were Catholic. Or maybe because her parents pushed her to study medicine, and she rebelled with a degree in communications.
Whereas my parents told me to follow my dreams, to go into the arts, and I decided to study psychology instead.
Not that Mom and Pop would be proud of my current venture. Hey, it's the arts, isn't it?