(Lesbian) Heartbreak Hotel and Other Shitty Love Songs (LGBT) (GirlxGirl)

Track One: Every Rose Has It's Thorn -Poison

Here's the thing about love songs; they're stupid.

You just know that whatever poor indie-pop schmuck yowling behind his acoustic guitar got his heart ripped out by the same exact girl that dances her way through the lyrics. You can't pin girls down like beetles in an elementary school science exhibit. In six months, he will capitalize on the same heartbreak with a solemn, crooning single about missing her. It'll be his big break, so really, they're both winners.

I know a thing or two about heartbreak, or more accurately, breaking hearts. Go ahead, judge me all you want, but we've all hurt people. I just like to be honest about it. I'm the girl that makes boys with stupid names like Chase Chadwell, or Brad Everest bawl their eyes out. Really, I'm just taking these assholes down a peg, and you can't tell me that they don't deserve it.

Take one of my many exes, Ryan Goodwin, for example. He was cute enough, with matching dimples on either side of his blindingly white smile and rippling muscles from years of rugby and football-- the most delightfully stereotypical of all sports. Sure, he was a bit of a dreamboat by society's standards, but as far as I'm concerned he's just a collection of sexual assault charges that were never actually filed. He's the scum on the bottom of my shoe and I gave him what he rightfully deserved.

What was that exactly? I made him fall in love with me, and then I made him regret ever picking me to be his senior-year arm candy. Home-cooked meals under the stars, expansive and tasteful knowledge of both muscle and sports cars, whispered conversations under blankets at three in the morning. I turned that sucker into pudding, like something straight out of a John Green novel. I fucked his brains out, held him in my arms at his grandmother's funeral and left him to wonder where exactly he went wrong as I sped off in the passenger seat of his brothers convertible.

Cruel? Maybe. But I highly doubt any of the girls he's 'bumped into' at a party with would think it was so cruel after what he'd done to them..

    I have to admit, his brother wasn't nearly as good in bed, but he cried twice as hard when I broke his heart just the same.

    Here's the thing about boys; they're stupid.

    Before you get all defensive, really take a second to hear me out...  they're stupid.

    You're probably thinking that I'm just another one of those screwed-up girls with bangs the length of two fingers who just needs to find the right guy to help end my miscreant ways. Think again, because "the right guy" is the very last thing on my mind.

    It's pretty easy to gain a reputation when you screw so many people over, or just screw them, period. I'd be lying if I said I was popular at my high school, but please understand that that is completely by design. Infamous would be a more appropriate description. The key to truly staying on top is to reject people before they have a chance to reject you-- I learned that quickly when I moved here freshman year. You'd think that my first and foremost goal would be to make friends and find acceptance, like any other blossoming fourteen-year-old would hope for. As a pale-ass, mid-height Nebraskan making my way through the balmy halls of a Californian high school, I had enough intellect to recognize that would be impossible. My only option was to remain aloof or be doomed to be a complete and total loser.

    Friends had never come easily to me. Friendship can be defined as the moment when a pretty girl with multicolored rubber bands threaded through her braces weaves you a friendship bracelet out of your favorite colors. What I have, I like to call comradery-- and don't act like you know enough about communism to have a real opinion on it-- it's just an expression. Lately, my closest comrade has been a English teacher by the name Mr. Flat.