I was at home, relaxing by the glow of a fire I'd lit in my living room fireplace. It's really a very cozy setup — stone hearth, solid mantle, lazyboy chair, bearskin rug, the works. I'll often make tea for myself in the evening (coffee makes me jittery), but since my sister had recently sent me a canister of Ghiradelli mix, I was drinking cocoa.
Somewhat unexpectedly, the doorbell rang, which was odd, given that not only was it pretty late (nine? ten?), but I was certainly not expecting company. Being polite and generally not the type to suspect the worst, I got up, and with a shrug, went to the door. The bell rang once more, that familiar "ding-dong," before I turned the knob. Well, imagine my surprise when I opened the door to find Clarisse, who, for those of you who don't know, is the best friend of my girlfriend Zelma.
"Clarisse! What a surprise to see you here at this hour! Is everything all right?" I asked.
"Oh, things are more than all right," she answered, stepping without invitation into my house. I was a bit taken aback by the whole ordeal as she put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. Something was clearly up, as she was wearing a very tight little J. Crew number and was smiling slyly at me. Why would Clarisse be doing this, I asked myself as she all but pushed me back onto my chair. I mean, she knew that I was faithful to Zelma, and though Clarisse is a fine young lady, I'm not the kind of man who is just going to betray his girlfriend for a few moments of passion. Zelma would definitely NOT approve, I was sure.
But still, she pushed on, and tried to kiss me — a move I had to dodge quickly. I told her to calm down; I believe I said something to effect of "Chill!" or "Wait!" though in retrospect, I probably should have taken a harder stance. This is because as I was trying to fend Clarisse off of me, a terrible truth was revealed: Zelma herself burst in the door and caught us in what must have looked like a compromising position, even though any contact I had with Clarisse at this point was merely to push her off of me, as she was definitely growing more sexually aggressive with each moment. Zelma had set the whole thing up herself. My girlfriend didn't trust me. And though I was trying with all my might to maintain my fidelity to her, the disgusting sight of this all was nevertheless enough to make her question our entire relationship, as aloud she doubted her own role, shouting, "Girlfriend?"
Does this not all seem a bit ridiculous? She sets me up in such a way that even if I don't "take the bait," I've still failed in her eyes. The whole thing is just not cool at all. There's a lot I could say about it, but for now, in the interest of not typing something I'd later regret, I'll just leave it at "Hmmmmmm."
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