So, here’s a tale for the grandchildren I’ll probably never have.

The first date I ever went on wasn’t even my own.

I suppose by typical date standards, it could be considered nice. Decent restaurant, good company… minus Trace. Ok music.

Then again… what the fuck do I know?

The thing I just can’t figure out is why Justin’s being such a god damn moron about this. The idiot spends hours telling us how he just nailed some on the rise actress, or how Janet Jackson seduced him. Yet this broad makes him act like a ten year old.

So much so that he invited me on his fucking date.

Like, grow a pair and tell the girl it’s a date and if she doesn’t like it, she can go snort ants or something. But no. He’s Justin Timberlake, and he gets what he wants. And if by some sick twist of fate he doesn’t get what he wants, he acts like a whiney bitch until you’re on the verge of stabbing yourself in the ear with a spoon and you finally cave.

He’s a sick, sadistic bastard and he knows it.

“Are we all sitting together?” Lyla smiles as we enter the restaurant and I have to bite my tongue.

No. The four of us are sitting together, like normal. You can go sit by yourself. Don’t leave your drink unattended, I hear they sell roofies in place of french fries here.

“Right… stupid question.” She laughs nervously and rolls her eyes. “So…”

“You two wanna grab a table and we’ll get the beers?” Justin doesn’t even give me a chance to respond before he, Trace and Kyle all take off to the bar and I’m left with the homecoming queen.

Awesome.

“Where ever you want to sit is fine with me.” Lyla smiles politely as we begin to weave through the sea of tables and chairs. “I like your shirt by the way.” I glance down at my plain black T-shirt and roll my eyes.

Is this bitch retarded or something?

“Right. You know you don’t have to be nice to me, right? I couldn’t give a shit less who Justin dates or why he dates them. Being nice to me doesn’t earn you brownie points or some shit.” She looks slightly stunned and I’m fighting the urge to laugh at her.

Does she honestly think she’s the first chick to be nice to me, solely to get to Justin? I mean, let’s get real. Girls have been pulling this shit on me for years, and it’s never done them a damn bit of good.

Number one, because I know it’s total bullshit. Two… the only one of Justin’s friends who has to approve is Trace.

See, I am what you’d call a “back home friend.” I see Justin for maybe two weeks, three or four times a year. There aren’t any daily phone calls… not even monthly, for that matter. My thoughts and opinions on his day to day life are irrelevant. And I’m fine with that. Honestly, if I had to deal with him more than I already do, I’d probably hang myself.

Bottom line is, these broads don’t have to get in good with me to impress Justin. In the grand scheme of his life, I’m pretty unimportant. So yeah… Lyla doesn’t even need to waste her breath.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you? You’re fixing my car and you’ve been nice to me.”

“Yep. I’m a regular Suzy fucking Sunshine.”

Seriously… how long is it going to take the three amigo’s to get beer? I can’t be held responsible for anything I may say to this broad in response to her stupidity.

“You’re a little cynical… there’s nothing wrong with that. Honestly though… I made a complete fool of myself that day I brought my car in, and you were just… awesome, about all of it.”

Oh… I get it now. She’s being sarcastic. Great.

“Really Maggie… you don’t know how much I appreciated your help. I mean… I’ve got pretty much nothing here, and believe it or not… that ‘a friendly face goes a long way’ stuff is true. It doesn’t have anything to do with Justin.”

“So you don’t like him?”

“Well… yeah, I do. But… I don’t know him very well, and he’s this insanely famous dude, and I’m… me. I’m nothing special.”

So she’s going to pull the ‘oh he won’t fall for lil’ ol’ me’ card. Like that hasn’t been done. I would love for someone to explain this thought process to me. Cause it makes zero sense. These girls know what they look like, and I guarantee that they see the male reaction to it.

“You know what… I gotta go.” I mutter and slide out of the booth. “Tell the guys I’ll see them tomorrow.”

“Aw Maggie… don’t leave! I don’t want to be the only girl here!”

“They’re not gonna try to gang bang you… you’ll be fine. Later.”

This isn’t one of my finer moments. I’m aware.

But… things have been happening these past couple weeks and it’s all just…. Really fucking weird.

For a very split second, I thought maybe… maybe I liked Justin. But I’m fairly certain I’ve just disproved that because… hello….if I did like him, would I actually leave him semi-alone with Lyla? I think not.

So there. Problem solved. Crisis averted. So on, and so forth. However, a little planning might have gone a long way because now I have to fucking walk home.

“Burke man… where you goin?”

“Home.” I shrug, not bothering to turn around and face Kyle. I start my trek down the street and immediately hear his heavy footsteps behind me. “Pretty sure stalking is a federal offense.”

“This is not cool dude. If I have to be the fourth wheel on Justin’s fucked up date, so do you.”

“Four wheels are typically a good thing.” I mutter and roll my eyes. “Christ Kyle… you’re a mechanic. You of all people should know car metaphors.”

“You knew what I meant. Anyway… you think you’re just gonna walk home? It’s like… twenty blocks, B.”

“Just started a new exercise regimen. It’s totally fine.”

“Alright… stop.” He grabs my arm and jerks me around to face him. I could probably just sock him in the mouth and run away, but he knows where I live and he‘s a big fan of retaliation, so I’m kinda screwed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I am trying to go home. You are preventing such events from happening. Would you like me to draw your simple ass a diagram?”

“As a matter of fact… yeah, I would like a fucking diagram. Because your batshit crazy ass isn’t making sense to anybody with a dick. Which you used to have one of. You know… uhh… metaphorically.”

“Oh do not-”

“And my ass happens to be quite complex…just an FYI.”

“Fuck. You. I’m going home.”

“Bur- Maggie… come on. Just talk to me. You’ve been really fuckin weird the last couple weeks and it’s… not gonna lie… it’s starting to freak me out.”

I do believe that’s the first time in twelve years that Kyle has actually sounded… concerned, I guess is the right word.

And ok fine… maybe I haven’t been myself lately, but can’t he just boil it down to the fact that I’m on the rag, and move the fuck on? Then again… Kyle’s a moron. He probably thinks periods are some mythical creature, right up there with fucking unicorns and leprechauns. (Trace notwithstanding.)

“It’s…. you know what…it’s been since Justin got home. Did he say some shit to you? Cause, he might be my boy… but fuck that.”

“Oh… so Trace can say whatever the hell he wants to me, but Justin says something and it’s time to launch some macho bullshit fueled attack? Get a grip Kyle. I’ve been busting my ass at the garage, and I’m tired. End of story. Ok?”

“You aren’t doing any more at the garage than you normally do. Don’t make me call your dad… cause… cause he scares the shit out of me… but I will totally do it unless you start talking B.”

And Kyle the idiot has just pulled out the big guns. Apparently I didn’t give him enough credit, because he is a vindictive little bastard.

And you know… maybe this is one of those things where talking about it would help… maybe the problem is that I’ve had all this stupid shit bottled up and it’s turning me into a lunatic. Once I actually tell someone, it’ll go away.

That’s how this shit is supposed to work, right?

“It’s not Justin. Well… it is… but it’s… not, you know?”

“And we’re back to the not making sense.”

“I don’t… it’s…. I don’t like Lyla. And I thought it was because she’s… she’s a real girl, you know? Like the ones who made me fucking miserable all through school. And it was really easy to hate her because of that… but now… the more I think about it… I… I hate her because Justin doesn’t.”

“So you’re saying you’ve got a thing for Justin?”

“No… Yes… I don’t fucking know! And that’s the problem… I don’t know how this shit is supposed to work, or how it should feel, and… “

“Wanting to bang him would be a good indication.”

“Yep… definitely leaving now.” I roll my eyes and do my best not to slap him. “And so help me god… you breathe a word of this to anyone… I will shove something large and sharp up your ass.”

“B… it’s ok, you know? It’s not a bad thing… I mean…”

“We’re done talking about this.”

“K.” He nods slowly and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I think you should stay, but… I get it. I’ll see you tomorrow. And… completely cliché, but… if you need anything…”

“Yeah, you’re here. Blah, blah fucking blah.”

Now I have a nice, long twenty block walk home to think about what a god damn idiot I am.

Awesome.