Track 1 Blank Space
CARTER
Present Day
The sex just isn’t enough anymore.
I shook my head as my current girlfriend, Emily, ran in circles around me on the beach.
Dressed in a bright red bikini, she smiled as she splashed me, garnering the jealous attention of other guys nearby.
Every so often, when I smiled back at her, she would untie the camera from her wrist and stand next to me—holding it high above us while yelling, “Selfie time! Cutest Couple Everrr!”
To be honest, everything about this woman was damn near perfect on the outside: She was stunningly beautiful, with light green eyes and full soft lips; she had an infectious laugh that could make the most sullen person smile, and her sense of humor was pretty similar to mine.
She had a naturally bubbly personality that could make any stranger believe she was a best friend at a first encounter, and behind closed doors, her desire for sex was almost as high as mine.
That’s where her nice qualities ended though, and I, unfortunately, found that out much too late.
A few months after we started to date seriously, her true character began to show: First, I found out that her naturally bubbly personality wasn’t “natural” at all; it was a side effect of the illegal Adderall she often abused and overdosed.
Second, was her habit of texting me every hour on the hour with “I miss you, baby. Where are you?” whenever we weren’t together. If I didn’t answer her in three minutes or less, she would text me repeatedly: “Are you dead? ARE. YOU. DEAD?!”
And lastly, the reason I was definitely ending this relationship sooner rather than later, was her new and weird-ass sex fetish: She liked to crawl around the room on all fours and purr like a kitten before and after sex. She even “meowed” when she came.
Some shit I just couldn’t handle for the long term.
“Hey, you!” Emily splashed me, knocking me out of my thoughts. “What are you over there thinking about?”
“A lot of things.” I admitted.
“That’s why I like you, Carter.” She smiled. “You’re always in deep thought, thinking about deep things.” She held the camera above us. “Deep-thought selfie!”
“Right …” I waited until she’d snapped the photo. “Are you ready to head back yet?”
“Almost! Give me five minutes. I want to wade farther out and feel the waves against my chest one last time.”
I nodded and watched her slip into the ocean—beckoning me to join her, but I simply forced a smile and stayed back. I was still thinking, still wondering why I could never get past the six-month mark with any woman I dated—why I could never find enough strength to stick around another second.
“Okay!” Emily met me on the shore. “I’m ready to head back now if you are, Carter. I know what’s really on your mind.” She pressed her hand against my crotch. “Meow …”
Jesus.
I moved her hand away and clasped it, leading her back toward my place.
“What do you think about going to the Everglades tomorrow?” she asked.
“I think we should talk about that tomorrow. We actually have a lot to talk about.”
“Awww.” She squeezed my hand. “It sounds like you’re finally going to let me inside and tell me all your deep, dark secrets …”
“I don’t have any deep, dark secrets.”
“Well, whatever you want to talk about tomorrow, can we not talk about it at Gayle’s?”
“What?” I looked over at her and raised my eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because, although I know you love the food there and I do, too, I hate that place. Like, being there, you know?”
“Not really.”
“I just feel like it’s not our own ‘couple spot’, you know?
Every couple needs their own “OMG, this is our spot” type of place.
Speaking of which, I was thinking we need to post more pictures of us together on Facebook.
I’ll be posting what we took today on tomorrow.
What do you think of the caption: “OMG! My boyfriend took me on a surprise trip to the beach? Hashtag, he loves me, hashtag, don’t be jealous, hashtag, he always spends money on me. ”
“The beach is free.”
She ignored my comment and continued babbling, eventually transitioning from our social media profiles to how badly she wanted to ride me tonight, but the second we got back to my place, she collapsed onto my bed and fell asleep.
Relieved, I took a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter. I needed to think tomorrow’s break-up through. I needed it to be short, swift, and to the point.
“It’s not you, it’s me.” “I’m just not sure if I’m really the man you’re looking for.” “Okay, look. It’s that weird-ass cat shit you do.”
No, no. I need to be diplomatic about this. Hmmm.
I googled, “Top Ten Best Ways to Break Up with Someone,” but the browser crashed and a phone call came through instead. My best friend, Arizona.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Meowwww ,” she whispered. “Meowww. Meow!”
“Fuck you, Ari.”
She laughed. “Are you busy right now? Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all.” I stepped into my room and tapped the wall to see if Emily would wake up. “I just got back from the beach. Emily passed out as soon as we got back.”
“Did she eat too much catnip? That happens to me all the time.”
“Is there a point to this goddamn phone call, Ari?”
“There is.” She laughed. “There is.”
“Care to share it before I hang up on you?”
“Yeah. I think I finally want to have sex with Scott tonight.”
“Okay. Then go finally have sex with Scott tonight.”
“No, no, no …” Her tone was more serious now. “I’m just not sure if I should or not, you know? I’m getting some vibes.”
“What kind of vibes?”
“That it’s not a good idea, that it’s not the right time.”
I sighed. Arizona always needed to host an internal examination session whenever she was considering sleeping with a guy.
Everything had to be measured in terms of risks and returns, down to “the intensity of the kisses,” “the average length and quality of the dates,” and “the long-term relationship factor.” Even though she denied it, I knew she kept a spreadsheet on her phone to track all of those ridiculous factors, and that she started a new one each time she dated someone.
“Look,” I said, “if you don’t want to sleep with him, don’t. Tell him you’re not ready yet.”
“Do you think he’ll be okay with that, though? We’ve been together eight months.”
“What?” I nearly choked on my beer. “It’s been eight months?”
“See? That’s the thing, and I know he feels like tonight is the night, since I kind of alluded to it, but I don’t know. I’m not sure if he’s worth the risk. I don’t want to get burned again.”
“Wait a minute.” I shook my head. “Where are you right now?”
“In Scott’s apartment.”
“Then where the hell is he?”
“He went to CVS to get us some condoms.”
“At least his heart is in the right place.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously though, if you’re not one hundred percent sure, just tell him what you just told me. He’ll have to understand.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Find someone who does.”
“Right,” she said. “Are you still thinking about breaking up with Emily this weekend, or are you going to try and make it work?”
“No.” I walked over to my bedroom door and shut it before completely answering. “It’s definitely over. I’m not feeling it anymore, and I’m beyond tired of all the arguing, her erratic craziness, and feeling like I have to check in every hour on the hour.”
“This is your fourth breakup in a year. I think it’s time for you to give the girlfriend thing a rest.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve finally accepted that I’m not the relationship type, and I’ll be making my single status very clear after tomorrow. I need to be single and enjoy life before law school starts anyway.”
“So, you’re saying that you’re going to be a whore this summer?”
“I’m implying that.” I smiled. “There’s a difference.”
“There’s really not. Oh! Gotta go! Scott just pulled up in the driveway, so I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye!”
I hung up and grabbed another beer from the fridge. As I was shutting the door, a plate whizzed by my head—inches away from my ear. It hit the wall and shattered onto the floor.
“What the—” I turned around to see a red-faced Emily. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“With me?” She tossed another plate at my head and missed. “What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“Only one of us is currently using plates as a potential murder weapon right now.”
“You’re breaking up with me tomorrow? Days before graduation?”
“If I say yes, will you stop throwing my goddamn plates?”
She threw another one, but it landed near the stove.
“I thought we were going on vacation together this summer! I had tons of selfies and sex planned, but all of a sudden, you’re willing to throw it away?
Just like that?” She was talking faster than ever.
“I know I text you all the time, but only because I worry and like you so much, and I’m a journalism major, so I see stories that would make your mind explode.
People are out there dying every day, Carter. Every. Day.”
“Okay.” I shook my head. “Exactly how much Adderall did you take today?”
“Our perfect future aside, you’re breaking up with me and I have to hear about it from a phone conversation you’re having with someone else? That’s messed up, Carter! Beyond messed up!”
“You’re right.” I held up my hands in a slight surrender. “And I’m actually very sorry about that, but yes, I am breaking up with you tomorrow. Well, right now, actually.” I decided to give diplomatic option one a go. “It’s not you, it’s me …”
“Are you being serious right now?”
I went for diplomatic option two. “I just don’t think I’m the man you’re looking for.”
She was silent for a long time, glaring at me in utter disbelief. I was hoping she wouldn’t try to talk me out of this, otherwise, I’d have to go with the less than diplomatic reason and dodge more plates.