Hinge for Girlfriends
By Marina Lohova
“I need a girlfriend,” Kelsey raged through the room. “Not a relationship, not a hookup. A savvy human with a vagina to accompany me in going to bars and doing girl things. A girlfriend. I am so damn lonely in this City of Roommates.”
Her sweatpants formed a colorful pile on a kitchen table. Matching tie dye crop hoodie was draped over her waistline. The room itself looked disastrous. Open boxes spilled various items on the floor. There was nowhere to sit. She has just moved into her brand new hip apartment in Santa Monica a few days ago. Walking around barefoot on the beautiful espresso floors. Her best friend Adam almost done putting up drapes in the bedroom to protect her from the pervy stare of her older neighbor.
The neighbor, she learned soon enough, had a girlfriend. Who knows what those two were doing in the creepy dungeon of his apartment when the said girlfriend visited. Some other mature woman of his came over a few times in the early mornings, screaming her head off with obscenities in the parking lot. Luxury apartment building, like the posting said, and she couldn’t agree more. But hey, at least the fixtures were nice. She gave her neighbor the thumbs up. He immediately disappeared inside his dungeon.
It was Saturday morning. People’s stories of last night partying started coming out on social media. Some folks had the audacity to share the reels with mashups of their good times and Hollywood bar crawls. It made her even more heart broken, as if the whole world tried to rub her perceived loneliness in her face. “They were probably sad and bored the whole time,” she complained, “Bitches.” Chaotic, disorganized, and deeply flawed, she was unsure if anyone would find any value in her companionship. “You do realize that when you say that you are offensive to everyone, including me, your best friend?” said Adam. “Maybe. I have every right. I’m a sad and lonely woman, for God’s sake.” She inspected the barrel cactus in one of the boxes. It disintegrated inside its pot from too much watering. “I don’t even own a cat, or a plant!”
“Why don’t you reach out to A?” Adam made an inviting hand motion with a hammer drill from the top of the ladder. “How are you supposed to connect with someone if you spend weekends on the couch swiping through other people’s stories and getting upset about how unincluded you are?”
‘I did,” she lied. “It’s not going to work. Have you seen her riding a Bird down Lincoln boulevard in a fur coat and Pikachu hat with light up ears?”
Some other day they’d probably hold their hands like creepy Swedes in “Midsommar” and laugh their heads off because A did ride the ride share scooter everywhere. It was funny. She was a fruit loop. She could have two nemeses share a deep instant bond over her obscure mannerisms on any given day. But today the corners of Kelsey’s eyes got a little watery. Could be a surge of hormones, but also because she was genuinely frustrated at this situation.
“We are not a good fit,” she brushed off. “I drive an actual vehicle, and I hold an actual job. Like, in a job where I have responsibilities. I have a savings account. She makes her own fucking toothpaste. I need a girlfriend who is anything but vapid,” she concluded.
She collapsed onto the couch pillow laying around on the floor without an actual couch in sight. In her dreams she and her bestie, a profoundly unvapid female person with a rich inner life, walked into The Butcher’s Daughter, a hot spot on Abbot Kinney where she was too afraid to go by herself. Wearing cheap fleece hoodies from Amazon, they strutted among douches dressed in Lululemon like they owned the place. First thing they’d see would be a real life Zeus. Soon to figure out it was actually a waiter. Flaming red locks, falling on his broad shoulders in luscious curly strands, his every photo must be a straight up headshot. He would approach with a hefty wine list and offer a sample to help them with the wine selection process. They would inspect the wine list and also discover entries like “Wild Forest Carrots” on the menu. When he came back and asked if they are ready to order she would almost reply “Voulez-vous manger avec moi?” in French, because how do you talk to beautiful people like that, other than in French? But she wouldn’t and they’d order “Wild forest carrots” from the appetizer menu. Her lady bestie would make fun of ten dollar S’mores on the dessert list,
“Why are Boobies á Pari cheaper than stinkin’ smores???”
referring to Paris Breast pastries 50 cents cheaper. “Boobies a Pari must be more expensive!” she’d yell. They would have so much fun soaking the ambiance of this place. The bestie would request to sample the most expensive wine from the wine list at $600 a bottle. This woman! The waiter would say No. They would spend the rest of the night watching hipster men and their fashionable women as they fine dine in this hipster breeding lab environment that looked like a lifestyle editorial.
Adam interrupted her unfiltered stream of consciousness by crashing next to her on a vacant couch pillow. He was attracted to her vivaciousness, and a little bit too lenient to her being judgemental and belligerent at times. He used to have a crush on her in the beginning of their friendship. He soon got over it, or rather strategically stuck around in case she changed her mind, or at least until the right one came along. Sure enough, tender nostalgia and good memories never faded. He still believed she was secretly a good person. And since the right one for him did not show up yet, they’ve been enjoying each other’s company, freely and carefree, and platonically.
The whole dating thing made him jaded, though. It was easier to flip through the online profiles of equally frustrated females with Kelsey by his side ready to chime in with unhinged relationship advice and healthy critique. “Love a good bar crawl with my besties on a Friday night! I’m so weird. Lol. <emojis all the way to the right margin>” he read out loud the next match’s trite bio.
Kelsey got up and walked over to the kitchen clearly not paying attention.
“I’m 5'9'’ ! My besties are life !! I love brewing my own soaps, and pura vida !!”
Completely ignorant, Kelsey dove into the stainless steel monster of a fridge, and did not hear Adam’s disgruntled comment. What the hell was Pura Vida, AND that sentence structure, anyways?
“Tada,” he announced, eventually. “She is online” He stared at the digital face of a 20 something woman. She looked intensely into the camera. Pretty, and quite evidently, emo. She looked like she used to be into grunge and wore oversized rave pants in her teens. It’s okay, he would love her even in a potato bag. Now well into her adulthood, she retained jet black hair and that rebellious nose ring, as well as her complex and introverted personality. Veronica. She was the reason why he deleted and later — reinstalled — the apps. Out of pure spite, when after what he thought was a successful first date and a sleepover, she stopped replying to texts.
“Fuck her,” Kelsey handed him Spindrift and looked over his shoulder. She took a small sip from her can. “She is probably emotionally closed off and scared of actual closeness which leaves her chasing after unavailable douchebags, because of her lack of introspection and self awareness. Which I think is ridi…” She choke.
“I have a confession to make: I’m not like other ‘not like other girls’ girls,” Kelsey continued picking out things from Veronica’s prompt. Her face lit up.
“Used to be into grunge, now I just hold grudges,” she belted out, excited.
“Love hanging with other human beings with a vagina, or without,” she read. “My guilty pleasure is fleece hoodies from Amazon. Let’s grab a coffee on Abbot Kinney, my favorite spot for people watching!”
she recited. “This gal is a whole vibe!”
“I really like her,” Adam winced. Kelsey began hyperventilating. A vague idea started forming in her mind. She might have been flippant and unfocused recently, but when the right opportunity came along she knew better to jump right in and go for it. Veni vidi vici. Thrilled, she grabbed his hand,
“I really like her, too!”
TO BE CONTINUED
Thanks for reading! This is a work of fiction. All characters are fictional, and are not related to real people or events. Clap and subscribe to my Medium if you wanna show support.
Marina ❤
