Pretty Girl Problems

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I climb into the passenger’s seat of Doug’s truck and for the first time finally, I’m able to break down in tears. The sobs I've been holding in, matching the theme of the rain coming down outside. Being protected by the tinted windows of his truck makes me feel like I can finally release my pent up emotions.

“What’s wrong, Nora?” Doug asks me, reaching over to hold my hand.

“You were there!” I shriek, “You know already!”

“It’s just a rinky-dink pageant, baby. This whole thing is not a big deal.”

“It is a very big deal,” I argue. “This pageant is the only thing I have. It’s what I look forward to all year. How can you minimize this?!”

“Because it’s not the end of the world, Nora.”

“Oh God, now you sound like my dad! I feel like my entire self-identity has been wiped. If I’m not the Hartford City beauty pageant queen anymore than who am I? I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“That sounds just a little dramatic, baby,” he says trying to rub my back.

I throw his hand off of me back in his own direction. Everything is pissing me off and Doug’s choice to downplay my anguish is making everything worse. He starts driving and parks outside the front of my house.

“You’re blowing this whole thing way out of proportion,” he says to me. “Mankind is facing global hunger... climate change... war. Do you realize that you’ve got pretty girl problems?”

I groan at how inconsiderate he’s being. “My sadness in this current situation is still valid, even if there are other issues going on in the world.”

“Let’s distract you,” Doug says to me, leaning over to kiss me. I automatically turn away. I don’t feel lovey-dovey. I don’t feel affectionate in the slightest. Whenever Doug would lose football games during the school year or get pissy about repair issues with his truck, I never downplayed his frustrations but that's what he is doing to me. His immaturity is really starting to infuriate me.

He slides his fingers behind the back of my neck and slowly starts to yank my head towards his crotch.

“Are you serious right now?!” I scream at him.

“You won’t be thinking about this stupid pageant if you’re busy giving me a blowjob,” he says, trying to sound reasonable. It’s insane to me that he actually thinks he sounds reasonable.

“We’re done.” I say gathering my things and opening the door.

“Wait, what?!”

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say to him, slamming the door after myself.

I run up my driveway and into my house.

I run up the stairs and collapse into my bed.

And just like that I’ve lost my boyfriend and been dethroned from the pageant crown, all within a matter of a day.

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