Page 20 of Two Sticky Nuts

“And if it weren’t for this one thing, you’d be trying to tie him down,” she says.

“Maybe, but—”

“All I’m saying is give the guy a chance to explain. I mean, if he were a woman trying to put herself through college or raise a kid alone, you wouldn’t be so quick to judge.”

I shake my head and sit back down, letting out a long sigh. “I feel like there’s judging and then there’s drawing a line in the sand for my own mental well-being. I could never be with a guy who shares himself with the world. Naked. Covered in Pop Rocks.”

“He’s not having sex with anyone, right?” she asks.

“I haven’t combed through his entire sack footage, but no. I don’t think so.”

“See.” She smiles. “You wouldn’t be sharing him. Not technically.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I could get past the sharing thing, but I don’t want a guy who treats his balls and dick like a crotch buffet to be the father of my children.” Everyone knows that what happens on the internet never dies. It’s there forever. “What would little Carter Jr. say?”

Sofie rolls her eyes. “You don’t even want kids.”

“But I might. Someday. And then what?” I make my voice high. “Mommy, why does Tommy’s mom keep trying to give Daddy gummy bears when she sees him?”

“Oh stop.” Sofie swipes her hand through the air. “You’re getting miles ahead. Just let the man explain.”

“No.”

“Okay. Fine. Then at least get to know him a little. Give things a chance.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because maybe you’ll find out he’s not for you, but maybe you’ll discover he’s everything and a bag of Skittles.”

My eyes simmer with anger.

“Sorry. No snack references.”

“But what if I end up liking him even more?” I ask.

“Then you decide if you can live with his profession. Who knows? Maybe he’ll give it all up for you.”

Wouldn’t be out of the question. I know that Carter’s true passion is film. “What do I do about his notoriety? Or the thousands of hours of ball fetish videos? They’ll follow him the rest of his life.”

She nods. “That is definitely a hurdle. Especially for someone like you.”

“What do you mean someone like me?”

“You know. Prude. Uptight. Frigid.”

“I’m not a prude. Or frigid,” I protest. Uptight might fit, though.

“You literally told me that you broke up with the last guy you were with, Jeff—”

“John,” I correct.

“John. All because he went down on you in the morning.”

“Well, yeah,” I admit. “Because we’d had sex the night before, and I had morning breath down there.”

“In your pussy?” She laughs.

“Don’t all vaginas have morning breath? We go pee in the night. And after sex, I’m pretty sure there are remnants of…you know, juices and things.”

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