Page 41 of Flirtasaurus
“Really?Friendsis—”
“Kind of before my time. I know. But I told you. I like old things.”
“No, I was going to sayFriendsis—”
“Extremely problematic, I know.”
“Do you always assume you know what other people are going to say?”
“First, how in the world can the show be set in New York City of all places, and the six main characters, all the supporting characters, all the guest stars,andall the extras for chrissakes are white? It’s lazy and irresponsible casting for sure, but it was the 90s, and things are changing on that front. I mean, hopefully, right?
“Next, what are the chances that Monica, an assistant chef who never seems to be chef-ing, and Rachel, who is a terrible waitress in acoffee shopand constantly sitting down on the job, could afford that absolutely massive open-concept kitchen slash two-bedroom apartment with abalcony? Also, I don’t know what landlord in their right mind wouldn’t flip their shit at their choice of paint colors. Sure, those blue and purple cabinets are fun, but ladies? That security deposit ain’t ever coming back.
“And are we really supposed to believe that these six always, and I meanalways, get the choice plush seating area at Central Perk while all the other peons sit at tiny high-top tables in the background? Nah, not buying it, guys.
“Moving right along, and I think we can all agree on this, the decision to have female cis actor Kathleen Turner play Chandler’s drag queen father has not aged well. Nor have the fat jokes aimed at teenage Monica, the cracks about Ben having ‘two mommies,’ or the gay jokes perpetually aimed at any male character who wasn’t macho enough in the eyes of the producers. However, here’s the real question I want to pose: Why are Rachel’s, and often Monica’s, nipples so damn pointy? And poor Phoebe! What? Was she not worthy of visible nipple objectification like the other two?
“But my biggest issue of all has to be the treatment of Ross and the way his ‘friends’ are constantly mocking his clearly superior job. I mean, come on! They’re all bouncing between being unemployed and working jobs they hate—besides Chandler, I suppose, who works as what, an IT procurements manager?—yet they feel completely justified making fun of thescientist,thepaleontologistwho is devoting his life to uncovering the mysteries and magnificence of the past! It’s complete and utter bunk! But it brings me comfort to watch that shitshow. Not sure why.”
He lets that all sink in for a moment.
“Fair enough.”
Gosh, he’s a really good listener.
I watch him rub my foot in silence.
“I, uh… I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you in the planetarium this morning.”
“Would you say you were harsh, though?”
He tries to deliver this question seriously, but immediately starts laughing.
“We both know I was. In my defense, it was partly because of my bruised ego after being stood up and—”
“I told you, I didn’t stand you up. I waited for you for—”
“An hour. I know. Thank you again for that. Very sweet of you. Lemme rephrase then. Burp! Oops. I burped. Beer makes me burp.”
“Beer makes everyone burp.”
“I haven’t heard you burp once, and you’re on, what, your ninth glass?
“Myninthglass?! No, Calliope, this is my third. And I’ve been squelching my belching in an attempt to be a gentleman.”
“Fuck being a gentleman. Let ’er rip!”
“Burrrrrrrrrrrrp!”
“There he goes! Don’t you feel better now?”
“I do actually, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
He taps my foot in that universal sign of “all done,” then reaches his hand out for the other one, which I gladly provide.
How the hell did we get here?
