5. Mr. Perfect Ass #2
“Aww,” I looked at the both of them dramatically. “Look at you guys. Adulting!”
“Of course!” Mel replied. “Because apparently that’s all there is left to do at this age. Pay bills and develop chronic back pain.”
“Wishing money just explodes and rains from the sky,” Andi added.
And almost as if the universe heard her, a loud splash exploded right in front of us. But it did not rain money.
Water hit my face. My shirt. My soul.
All three of us shrieked.
“Oh my God,” Andi said, standing up immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m done,” I said, already grabbing my bag.
Mel stood up too, laughing now. “Okay, okay. Let’s get inside the restaurant.”
We gathered our things in a hurry—towels, bags, dignity—and made a panicked escape from the pool.
Behind us, the screaming continued.
Inside, at least, there was air-conditioning and fewer children.
We settled into a table far from the glass window, still slightly damp, still mildly traumatized.
Andi took a sip of her mango juice and exhaled. “That was birth control.”
Mel laughed. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m observant,” Andi corrected. Then she turned to me, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Now. You’ve been weird all week.”
I blinked. “What do you mean? I’m always weird.”
“No,” she said, pointing at me. “Different weird. Subtle spiral weird. What happened?”
I did not know why it felt embarrassing to say that I bumped into Francis out loud. Maybe because it made everything real again. Or maybe because it made me look exactly what I was: someone who wasn’t over it.
“Francis showed up,” I said finally.
That got their attention.
“At Bluebird,” I added. “Last Tuesday.”
Andi’s eyebrows shot up. “Tell us more.”
Mel leaned forward slightly. “Like… showed up showed up?”
“Like walked in walked in,” I responded sarcastically. “He saw me immediately. Smiled like our breakup didn’t happen. And then he came to my table. That kind of showed up.”
“What did you do?” Andi asked.
“I panicked, of course.”
She laughed. “Of course you did. That’s so you.”
“I bolted,” I admitted. “Well—almost. He sat down, we talked for like three seconds, and then I basically ran away like I committed a crime.”
Mel smiled faintly. “That sounds about right.”
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “The worst part is… I think he knows.”
“Knows what?” Andi asked.
“That I’m not okay,” I said. “Like, he looked at me and it was so obvious. He couldn’t even hide it.”
I paused, picking at the edge of a napkin.
“I mean, I’ve been posting everything on TikTok, so it’s not exactly a secret,” I added. “But still. There’s something about your ex seeing you like that in real life.” I let out a small, awkward laugh. “It’s embarrassing. It’s like… great, now you think I need saving.”
Andi and Mel exchange a quick glance.
It was subtle. Quick enough that I almost missed it.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Mel answered.
Andi leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay, but serious question. Why can’t you get over Victor?”
There it was. Opening the wound again.
I exhaled slowly. “Honey says I’m hanging on to the fantasy.”
Mel nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Andi raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe the sex was just that good.”
I didn’t even hesitate. “The sex was that good.”
They both stared at me.
“What?” I said. “I’m being honest.”
Mel shook her head, smiling slightly. “There’s actually science behind that.”
“Here we go again,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
“When you’re physically intimate with someone, your brain releases oxytocin—it’s the touch hormone. The bonding hormone. It makes you feel attached, safe—even if the person isn’t actually good for you.”
“And dopamine,” Andi added. “Don’t forget dopamine.”
Mel nodded. “Exactly. So you’re not just missing the person. You’re missing how your body felt with them.”
I leaned back. “That’s so annoying. Everyone keeps saying I’m not truly in love with Victor. But how can I deny what happened between us? It all felt real to me.”
Mel shook her head. “Nobody is saying that it wasn’t real, James. It was. It’s just that you need to know why, so you would know how to finally say goodbye.”
Andi turned to her, raised both palms, and they high-fived like what Mel said just cured cancer.
I rolled my eyes.
“Sometimes it’s chemical,” Mel shrugged. “Not necessarily emotional.”
“And that,” Andi said, “is exactly why you’re stuck.”
I frowned. “Great. So what do I do? Detox my body?”
Andi smiled. Slow. Dangerous. Certain.
“You don’t need closure. You need orgasms,” Andi said.
My jaw dropped.
Mel blinked. “Andi—”
“I’m dead serious,” Andi cut in, sitting up straighter like she was about to present a thesis. “You’re stuck because your body is still attached to him. Mel said it—it’s chemical. So what do you do when something is chemical?”
I frowned. “Go to the doctor?”
“You replace it,” she said, pointing at me. “You override it with new experiences. New people. Better distractions.”
Mel crossed her arms. “That sounds like avoidance.”
“That is coping,” Andi shot back. “Healthy? Debatable. Effective? Absolutely.”
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t know. I tried that already.”
They both looked at me.
“When?” Mel asked.
“A few weeks ago,” I admitted. “With a random. We had sex. He was nice. It was… fine… I guess. Until he let me top him.”
“And?” Andi asked.
“And I still thought about Victor after,” I said. “Like—during.”
Andi didn’t even flinch. “Okay, so one guy didn’t fix you. That doesn’t mean the method is wrong. That just means your sample size is too small.”
I stared at her. “Did you just turn my love life into statistics?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “That is math, James. You don’t undo one person with one person. You undo one person with multiple options.”
Mel shook her head, though there was a hint of a smile she was trying to suppress. “That’s a terrible equation.”
“It’s a realistic one,” Andi replied. “You’re not trying to fall in love. You’re trying to detach.”
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossing loosely. “So your solution is… what? I just start sleeping around until I forget him?”
“I’m saying you remind yourself that he’s not the only one who can make you feel something,” Andi said. “Because right now, in your head, he is. And that’s the problem.”
Mel shifted in her seat, quieter now. “Just… don’t complicate it further.”
We both looked at her.
She hesitated, then added, “If you’re going to do that, at least don’t involve people who you already have history with.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning your exes,” Mel said. “That would be messy. That’s not detaching—that’s reopening wounds.”
Something in her tone made me pause. It wasn’t just caution. It felt heavier.
But she was right.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “Not with exes.”
Andi nodded. “No exes. New roster only.”
“Roster?” I repeated.
“You need options,” she said again, like she was explaining something obvious. “Right now, you’re acting like Victor is the last man on earth. Let’s remind your body that he’s not.”
I looked down at the table, tracing the rim of my glass with my finger.
Wasn’t he though?
I hated myself for thinking that.
“James,” Andi said, softer now.
I looked up.
“You’re not trying to erase what happened,” she said. “You’re just trying to move forward from it.”
I nodded, but it didn’t feel convincing.
Mel watched me carefully. “Just… be careful, okay? Distractions don’t always fix things. Sometimes they just delay them.”
Andi groaned. “Oh my God, Mel, let the gay man live a little!”
“I am,” Mel said. “I just don’t want him to regret it.”
“He won’t.” Andi looked at me. “Get tested. Take PrEP. Use Condoms.”
“That’s my non-negotiables,” I assured them.
Then silence settled between us, as the girls turned to their phones.
But I didn’t.
I leaned back in my chair, staring past the glass window where the pool still shimmered in the afternoon light.
Could it really be that simple?
Replace the feeling?
Override the attachment?
I thought about that night a few weeks ago—the guy in his apartment—and the way it all felt easy. Temporary. Forgettable.
And how, somehow, it still led me back to Victor. To his touch. To his kiss. To his love.
I exhaled slowly.
Maybe Andi was right. Or maybe I was just looking for the fastest way out of something that didn’t have one.
Either way, I needed to try something. Because whatever I was doing right now clearly wasn’t working.