Romantic Comedy

His sorrow was treading water, and no more alcohol could improve his life. He was at the point of oblivion. Andre was buying, and Andre insisted that all Rupert needed was a few drinks and his obsessions would seem meaningless.

“Your problem is that you’re too nice. Women like a man who will take control. You can’t even buy your own drink. Two more Dewar’s.”

Rupert was reaching his limit, but once the copper fluid was in front of him, he took a sip. The flavor of scotch seemed more subtle the further gone he was, and he wanted to savor it while he could. Andre downed his in a single gulp.

“You’ve been thinking about her too long, but she’s not the one for you. You’re just going to have to accept it. She’s seen the weak part of you, and you’re never going to overcome that. No one wants to fuck a boy. Why don’t you try acting like a man for once?”

Andre demonstrated by starting a conversation with a stranger. “Hey beautiful, do you have a defibrillator? Because I’m dying to meet you.”

Rupert was shocked when she laughed. After an initial, “That’s terrible,” she seemed receptive to whatever came out of Andre’s mouth. A little later, when he threw up on the bar, she took care of him and led him out, to her place.

Alone, Rupert finished his drink, and tried tapping the shoulder of a woman next to him. She turned toward him and held her hand to the spot he had touched like it was bleeding.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m dying.”

As he fell over onto her lap, she leapt to her feet and let him hit the wet ground. He rolled around in Andre’s vomit, his manly secretions, and obsessed.

#bros, #culture, #macho, #male-power, #media, #microfiction, #misogyny, #obsession, #ugly

History

Dr. Deacon showed his bicep to the class. A couple of the football players were impressed, but most of the girls seemed embarrassed. Blushing was how teenagers showed admiration, he knew, but he was still annoyed by their evasive glances.

A nerd raised his hand. “Is this going to be on the test?” Other students laughed at the question. Dr. Deacon watched the nerd smile to himself. He thought he was smart.

“What separated lords from their vassals?” Dr. Deacon asked, writing the words ‘lord’ and ‘vassal’ on the board behind him. Answers came from around the room. Wealth. Power, but what is power? Strength.

“Exactly. Physical intimidation was very real in the middle ages. An insubordinate serf might expect a visit from the knights of the order.” He wrote the word ‘enforcer’ between the other two words, and nodded affirmatively as he curled off the r.

He continued the lecture, doing his best to get a laugh from the bored-looking cheerleaders, but they were too stupid to understand when he was making a joke. “No, don’t write that down,” he said, and they looked up to him with empty eyes that he could only pity. His voice resonated in his head. He thought he’d sounded vaguely faggy. He’d even flipped his hand limp-wristedly.

As class ended, he showed his bicep again. A couple of the girls came and felt it on their way out. So did a football player, who pointed to the blackboard and said, “Hey. Doctor D. We got the message.”

“Great,” he said. “Study hard.”

After everyone was gone, he erased his writing. He had two hours before his next class. Maybe he’d go to the gym.

#bully, #male-power, #microfiction, #misogyny, #no-homo, #predator, #teacher

Agreeable

As he sank to his knee, she felt sickness take over the rest of her personality. She’d known this was coming, as he had been giving hints all week. She’d hoped hers had been even less subtle, but he had gone on using future tenses, musing what their child would look like. He had asked her favorite precious stone, and it was in his pocket now.

“Oh Luke,” she said, and though she sounded overwhelmed, she noticed that she couldn’t hear the disgust she had intended. Neither could he. He said something about sharing life; something rehearsed, perhaps from a movie.

She wasn’t really listening. She was envisioning the days to come, learning to ignore his snoring. They hadn’t shared a bed together yet, as he was still old-fashioned and she didn’t like him, but she was sure he snored like a parody.

His speech continued, but none of it sounded like the question she was waiting for. When she had the chance, she would say no. Leave it at that. “No.” She wasn’t so low on herself that she would ally herself in a loveless marriage just to avoid hurting feelings. What irritated her was how over-the-top she had to be. If he just paid a little attention, they wouldn’t have to go through this. They wouldn’t even know each other. He would have seen her pity from the start. When she called him dweeb and dork and such, he would know she wasn’t teasing affectionately.

“This is all so sudden,” she said, and she saw his face light with excitement. She tried to speak more clearly, “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” but it didn’t sound right. She hated her voice. It deserved him.

#hate, #male-power, #marriage, #microfiction, #obliviousness, #politeness, #resentment, #self-control