The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

The Millionaire's Secret Billionaire ~ Part 1

Whoever said that love solves everything can choke on my big, fat hog. Love makes everything more awkward and slightly more insecure, like being around a 2 y/o toddler whose uncle taught him how to say fuck for shits and giggles.

Case in point, this is the most awkward car ride I've ever been in. I didn't speak to Hayden after yesterday's... situation? Declaration of unbridled love? Let's go with situation. And just like The Situation, it's all abs and mediocre chemistry once our moment to shine faded away. Don't get me wrong, I care about him, and I wanna see what happens next with this next thing we're having, but the beginning of every relationship is awkward, and weird, and miserable. I don't know what to say, and it's painfully clear Hayden doesn't know what to say, either, given that he hasn't said a word since he picked me up from school.

Well, he did say hello, but besides that, nothing much. He's as much of a sentimental virgin that I am, apparently. It's just the two of us, riding his Dick-mobile, with Creedence Clearwater Revival slowly blowing up the old speakers, in complete silence. And also Okayden is here, wearing a Borsalino hat while reading a Foot Locker catalog. He's just there, minding his business, being a gentle soul.

So, dear reader, what do I do? This jump from friends to special friends is new to me. Do I grab his hand? I kinda wanna grab his hand. But then he will have to let go of my hand to use the stick. Maybe that's out of the question. Do I speak? What do I say? Why is this shit so damn hard? See, this is why I tried to avoid all this shit about love. It makes everything dumb and complicated. Speaking to him was easy until yesterday. Now, I feel like walking on eggshells, wondering who the fuck had all these eggshells to spare to make me suffer. Nobody even gave me some of that giant omelet, for fuck's sake.

I hate this, I hate being here, and I hate to start a relationship. It makes you dumb and complacent. No wonder all the great philosophers have died alone. Being smart and being in love are not compatible. You're either a lonely asshole or a happy dumb, no middle ground. And I'm squarely on the dumb side, moreso because Hayden refuses to tell me his plan on how to get me back to Hill Valley Mountain Woods. Last time I checked, I'm the protagonist of this damn story, for fuck's sake. I'm supposed to have all the agency over here.

But so far, I don't even say a word in edgewise. Or any word, for that matter. There is this wall between Hayden and me. Not quite a brick wall, but, like, a plexiglass wall, one where I can see Hayden, and he can see me, but we can't quite shove our tongue down each other's throat. If we could skip to the part of the relationship where we are old and live on a cheese farm, that would be great. God, I hate starting relationships. The ethical thing would be to do like the panda, refuse to reproduce, eat food that we literally can't process, and just die. Who's gonna miss us? Cats will eat us, dogs will probably eat us, the Earth will heal, end of story. Fucking pandas are based.

Just three buds, being awkward on a war vehicle, cruising towards the unknown. Literally. Where the hell are we? I never knew there was a neighborhood so posh in this backwater hellhole. Makes sense, I suppose, given that every other person seems to be a millionaire or the son of a millionaire. Just put all the shit in one bowl and call it a day, is what I say. Row after row of McMansions, all cream-colored, with horrible French-eclectic mutins that clash with the segmental dormer American windows on the second floor, all adorned with turrets, because of course McMansions need turrets. Everything is an eyesore of fuck-you money, plain and simple, telling you that money can't buy good taste.

What? I like architecture. Sue me.

There is so much masonry vomit I can stomach before I have to turn away. There's a mansion with bay windows with shutters and ionic columns. Good thing I didn't have lunch this time, cuz I definitely wanna puke. The only other thing I can focus on is, well, Hayden. I can't just sit here all day and not say anything, for fuck's sake. I need initiative, panache, and style. It's not very rockstar of me to just zip it and be in silence. I'll just open my mouth and let the rest to chance, just as I've done all my life.