“I mean, can you fucking believe that prick?” I huff as I gulp down another enormous scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. It’s my favorite flavor, but it’s also my emotional security blanket when I’m feeling low or depressed.

I’m feeling an extra crush of spirit today, so I’m helping myself to the entire gallon container. And I don’t give a shit about how many fucking calories I’m swallowing whole. It’s better than swallowing one more gulp of David’s hot cum. Ugh. That fucker is long gone now, and I’ll be damned if I ever let him step foot in here again.

“I know, sweetie, but it will get better. I promise.” My best friend and confidant, Molly Pinkerton, rubs my back consolingly. “At least you two aren’t married yet or anything. If you ask me, you have a free pass.” She laughs at the irony of the situation.

“What do you mean?” I wipe my runny nose. I hate that I’m reducing myself to tears right now, but I’m only fucking human, and I still have feelings that get hurt.

“Just think about it.” She crosses her legs and faces me on the couch. “At least you didn’t spend a fortune on a wedding and then catch him dipping his wick in a candlestick it doesn’t belong in.”

I spit my ice cream out and it flies out of my mouth and splatters on the floor a few inches away. “Oh my god, Molly, what the hell? But, high five,” I lean over and slap my palm to hers. “You’re too funny,” I say and laugh hysterically.

That’s the beauty of having a best friend like Molly. She’s sarcastic, blunt, and full of colorful expressions like that.

I’m lucky to call her my best friend for thirteen years now. I still remember rush week at college. Desperate to fit in way back then, and still now, it seems.

We both share the true bond of sorority sisterhood for the rest of our lives, along with the amazing memories that still live on to this day in our hearts forever.

“What?” She tosses a pillow playfully at my leg. “It’s so true and you know it.”

I calm down from my hyena fits of laughter and nod. “I guess you’re right,” I say and place the tub of ice cream on the coffee table.

“Are you finished eating your feelings now?” She grins at me, and I chuckle.

“For now, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe that asshole Zane Tanner has the nerve to fuck three models at once on your desk. How obscene!” she yells and picks up her phone to scroll through her news feeds.

“Yeah, well…that’s part of his glorious social butterfly personality.” I roll my eyes sarcastically and wrap my arms around my knees.

“You need to totally kick him to the curb too, girl,” she says to me and snaps her fingers playfully.

“I wish I could,” I sigh. “But I really need him.” I place my head in my hands. “He’s the best manufacturer out there.”

“The problem is, he knows it,” Molly adds.

“Isn’t that the fucking truth,” I snort with laughter. It’s a frustrating situation, but part of the reason I don’t want to give him the axe is because I’m secretly attracted to him. Ugh. Fuck me, right?

I stand up and look out the window overlooking the western portion of Central Park. It’s nighttime, and the moon is in a lovely, glowing crescent shape. I can faintly see a handful of people walking dogs or going for a night run, but it’s hard to really gauge any details from this high up when there’s not much light outside.

“I’m thinking I need to mop myself up off the floor now.” I turn to face Molly, giving her a sheepish grin.

“That’s my girl!” she says with a burst of enthusiasm and stands up too.

“I’m cute, right?” I ask and jut out my hips.

“Of course you are. You are damn sexy, girl,” Molly says and tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder.

We always joke because I have blonde hair and she has nearly jet-black hair—the color of ink or midnight. We call each other yin and yang, although we’re too alike to be opposites.

I always think of Molly as having more of an ethereal beauty type quality. But maybe it’s because she still wears choker necklaces and long flowing hippie dresses. I always tease her at Halloween and tell her she looks like she’s auditioning for a remake of that movie Hocus Pocus or some shit.

“So do you think it’s the guys who are the assholes and it’s not just me?” I glance at her.

“Of course I do,” she says and glides toward me to give me a hug. “You need to forget about those fucking assholes. They don’t deserve you, and you deserve way better than them.”

“I’m an asshole magnet,” I say and grin. Then I start to giggle, which in turn makes Molly giggle too. “Assholes can’t stay away from me. I’m like their docking station,” I joke, and we roar with laughter.

Then I have a sad thought. “It seems like every guy I know can’t keep up with me intellectually and has the brain capacity of a plant, or it’s the guy who is equally as smart but is banging three chicks on my desk at once.”

“I know. It’s so unfair,” Molly agrees and takes a bite of ice cream straight from the tub.

“David never satisfied me,” I whisper more to myself than to Molly as I stare out the window in a daze.

“Because he has a teeny tiny cock?” Molly jokes and stands next to me.

I chuckle. “Well, there’s that,” I say. “And by the way, that’s an amazing rumor to start about him if you want to go nuts with it.”

“Thank you.” Molly does a little bow. “And I assume no pun intended?”

“Of course.” I smile. “But he is so not enough for me emotionally either. He just didn’t get me stimulated in a creative way. I think I was in denial.”

“He sure as fuck didn’t stimulate you by arousing in your pussy either.” Molly laughs with a carefree nature.

“I suppose that’s true. Now he’s that other chick’s problem.” I laugh bitterly. “He wins the award for shitty ex-boyfriend of the year, though.”

“I’ll mark him down in the history books,” Molly offers with a grin.

“He’s not worth remembering.” I shake my head and place the lid back on the ice cream tub.

“Baby, just forget about guys. Maybe not forever, but for now at least. Give yourself a break.” She nods as if she holds all the answers to the universe in the windows of her eyes.

“I’m going to swear off men,” I agree with purpose.

Then privately, I wonder something else. Maybe I can fulfill my life’s destiny by having a baby, and I certainly don’t need a fucking man for the role of motherhood. Well, I might need their cum, but that’s fucking all.

Speaking of hot cum, I think about how Zane squirted his load all over my desk. I made him clean it up, but watching him do it really turned me on.

He has load upon load of baby batter if that performance was any indication, and I wonder if he might just be the best candidate to use for a perfect cocktail of genetic perfection.

I mean, he’s hot as fuck, brilliant, motivated. If he weren’t a total man-whore he’d be the perfect guy. But I don’t need him to be the perfect guy. I just need his man juice.

Oh my god, am I seriously thinking this right now? I don’t know what my deal is, but this suddenly sounds fucking amazing. This is either the best or the worst idea I’ve ever had.