girl thing

By Morghen Tidd

.

she is a girl thing.

.

she is a dreamy thing. when she dreams she’s always much taller than she really is. when she dreams the world distorts through her silly eyes. when she dreams she’s always holding hands with a dumb beautiful boy. okay the boy’s not really dumb but she wishes he was because then he would like her. she’s always dreaming day dreaming night dreaming head off in space eyes glossed over dreaming. she’s never living in her body. she’s either dreaming or she’s drinking. dreaming or drunk. sometimes she’s doing both. alcohol makes her dreams sad though and dreamy girl’s life is sad enough she doesn’t need sad dreams. she doesn’t want to be sad anymore but she doesn’t want to fix it either. she doesn’t want anything except for everything. she loves the wanting. most days this dreamy girl goes to her too-small room and cries. most days there’s a bottle of Jack sitting on top of her bookshelf. most days she drinks from the bottle. there’s a magenta lipstick smear around the bottle’s mouth. Jack’s her favorite boy to kiss with his whiskey bite. Jack’s her favorite but he’s also the only boy who kisses her anymore. she wishes Jack would spoon her or maybe even fingerbang her once in a while but Jack doesn’t have fingers. another one of life’s letdowns.

.

she is an inferior thing. she’s not a beautiful girl but she’s fuckable. she’s even been called memorable once. that made her blush. she’s a little bit chunky too. that’s from all the alcohol. it’s difficult for her to be a not so beautiful girl in love with a beautiful boy. most of her life is difficult. she finds it difficult to leave her bed most of the time. she dreams up a life lying on the flannel sheets. in this dream life she is beautiful and witty enough for her beautiful boy crush. in this dream life she lives in the hustle and bustle of a city. in this dream life she doesn’t spend her days dreaming her life away. she’s full of jealousy. she doesn’t want to be but that doesn’t change anything. watching behind the screen of her phone while her friends travel. watching behind the screen of her phone while her ex is now living in panama. watching behind the screen of her phone while everyone else is living everyone else is loving. she thinks about deleting her social media. she doesn’t do it but she thinks about it. she’s not sure what she would do with all the time that would free up. probably she would waste it. she’s good at wasting at getting wasted. she’s not good at much else. she picks up her phone and checks her messages. inbox one. a message from her ex’s crusty punk friend who’s eager to fuck her. her finger hovers over a thread with a beautiful boy. she puts her phone down and picks up Jack. oh to have someone who’s always there.

.

she is a romantic thing. a hopelessly romantic thing. she’s in love with a boy. she’s always in love. when he looks at her she’s all heart eye emoji swoon. he’s a beautiful boy a bashful boy. when she says she’s in love with him it’s only in her head. they have never touched. when he smiles at her it feels like her whole body’s on fire and her cunt’s soaking wet. as in she’s afraid to stand up from her seat because there’s probably a puddle. as in she would never tell her friends she’s in love with him because they would think she’s crazy. as in he probably thinks she’s crazy. they see each other twice a week. he always sits beside her these two days. he always asks her how she’s doing how her day’s been like what a dream boat wow. once she sees him unexpectedly while walking and he’s all like hey and she spills hot coffee all over herself. she can’t fix her bangs because there’s coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. she knows she’s bright red. he says he wants to tell her something but has forgotten. that means he was thinking of her when she wasn’t there. she’s dizzy with love. she wipes the corner of her mouth with the side of her coffee hand because she’s probably drooling. his brilliant blond hair seems to just glow. he reminds her of a baby deer all wide-eyed. but you know like a hot bashful baby deer. he asks her if she’s ever read Kristeva and she’s already ordering the book in her mind. she will do anything to have another thing to talk to him about. as he walks away she wishes she wasn’t always in love with beautiful boys. as she walks away she dreams of a scene in which he kisses her with lots of tongue. as they walk away she wonders if he would kiss her even with lipstick on. she knows he probably wouldn’t kiss her at all.  

.

she is an excited thing. it’s summer hot and she’s waiting in a cutesy little coffee shop waiting for a boy. it’s not the beautiful bashful boy she’s in love with but this one is also beautiful and she’s also a little bit in love with him too. it’s crazy she thinks how their names all start with the same letter. b is for beautiful. she wishes her name started with a b. she’s waiting and waiting for him to show. they were supposed to meet last week but he never showed. something about how he meant to text her and tell her. something about how something came up. her friends tell her not to make more plans with him but she does because he’s a beautiful boy. the barista is watching her since she’s sat down without buying anything. she casually checks her phone again and again and again. she sighs and puts her phone in her purse. when he comes in fifteen minutes late with a dashing smile she feels her heart burst with love. he remembered their plans. she frantically fixes her hair and tries to arrange the perfect smile no teeth of course for when he looks at her. his hair looks like he just rolled out of bed but like in a cute way. now that she thinks about it his hair always looks like that. what a beautiful boy. they talk and they laugh and he buys her a coffee wow. she loves his face but she also loves how funny he is. she remembers that time in class when he brought over her paper to her from a pile of pass backs. she loves how kind he is. he says let’s go for a walk and she follows him through the little town into the woods. she’s like little red riding hood but he’s the one with a red beard. his hair isn’t red though so she wonders what color his pubes are. she’s betting on red. her cute little skirt that has a zipper running up its length isn’t made for wooden treks. she doesn’t complain. she’s already dreaming about their future together like she knows he’ll leave here soon they always leave but she’s also dreaming about their future. they will live in a city all hustly and bustly. they will go out every night since he’s one of the only people she knows who can keep up with her drinking who loves Jack like she loves Jack. they will be like Sid and Nancy. they end up in this little shack in the woods like how convenient. he says the most bizarre things. he asks her if a guy would make a good dad based solely on his knowledge of dad jokes and she giggles. he tells her that it’s in a guy’s instinct to just like stabbing things and she wonders if she’s a thing he wants to stab. and when he gets bored of talking he kisses her. and when he kisses her his tongue is out first thing like some type of eager dog all wet and slimy. and when his beard rubs against her skin it scratches all scratchy and itchy and stuff. and when he struggles to undo her bra she gets bored. he kisses all sloppy up and down her neck her lipstick is a magenta smear all over his lips. they don’t fuck mostly because she’s conscious of her cunt being hairier than his face but also because it just kinda fizzles away like a slow wake-up from a dream. they go back to the coffee shop and she can tell the lady there thinks they fucked. she picks a twig out of her hair and tries to discreetly drop it on the floor. he buys her a second coffee wow. she doesn’t see him again but he texts her once in a while here and there. sometimes she still dreams of their future how rough and tumbley it would’ve been. sometimes she wants to take him up on his offer and visit him in his new big city. instead she drinks and dreams about it.

.

she is a sober thing. this is when she’s at her retail job. it’s such a bore though. she’s stuck tucked behind the fine watch counter. she has keys that unlock the cases and unlock the counter door so she can get out. she’s not allowed to leave the tiny area surrounding the counter when she has the keys. her tiny cage. mirrored pillars surround the area and she walks round and round and round smiling a faux smile at the passing people. she tries not to look in the mirrored pillars she doesn’t really want to see her not so beautiful face her overgrown haircut. one of her coworkers comes up with his long long hair and long long beard and smiles and asks if she has the watches that need to be sent away all packaged up. she blushes because she masturbated to the idea of him the other night. she doesn’t know him well but he looks like a beautiful bad boy whose bed’s probably just a mattress on the floor who probably looks at too much daddy dom porn online. she sneaks a peek at his hands and wow he could totally choke her. he’s the perfect beautiful bad boy to contrast with her beautiful bashful boy and her beautiful bizarre boy. oh what a collection they would be. oh what if they all loved her. he’s not happy with her because she didn’t get the watches done in time and now they’ll be late and now he’ll be bitched at by his boss or something. she’s listening to him but she’s also remembering her orgasm from the other night. obviously he didn’t give it to her but the idea of him did so that’s close enough. she smiles at him a not so faux smile and wanders off to fill the orders. that’s what she does here: dreams wanders fills orders opens cases closes cases and repeat. when someone wants to try on a watch she takes it out and compliments how nice it looks wow. this is because she gets commission. during the lull hours she goes behind the fine jewelry counter and tries on engagement rings. she doubts she’ll ever be engaged. she doubts she’ll ever be chosen. but she dreams about it. she dreams of her beautiful bashful boy on one knee his big baby blues batting up at her. their wedding would never be a disney scene because she’s not beautiful enough but she’d try her best and he’d be beautiful enough for them both really. she feels butterflies in her stomach as she slips on the princess cut diamond. her eyes tear up as she sees how ridiculous the ring looks on her. her fingers are too short too stubby. her nails are every beautician’s nightmare. she’s a nightmare. she puts the ring back on its holder and it looks beautiful again. she wonders if her touch would destroy her beautiful bashful boy too. everything is more beautiful without her.

.

she is a lucky thing. her professor puts her in a group project with her beautiful bashful boy. she shows up two hours early to the pub where they’re meeting. she doesn’t wear a bra she hopes he notices. she gets a steady buzz. the buzz spreads from her head to her cunt when he shows up. how sensational. they discuss Lorca they discuss the theory and implications of duende. he’s not only beautiful and bashful but also intelligent. what a package. everything he does makes her love him even more if that’s even possible. she feels like her heart might burst. she feels like she might die from love right in front of him. she imagines how this would play out how he would weep over her dead body. this makes her wet. they get up and get more drinks. she gets the beer with the highest alcohol proof. as they walk back to their booth she dreams about him touching her hand. she dreams that he would want to touch a thing a girl thing like her. she remembers the ring and hides her hands from his sight. she feels light-headed and dumb around him. she feels like he’ll never love her. she feels inferior to him. what a crazy thing love is. he talks and she stares at his lips. she wonders what they would feel like. she wonders what they would look like smeared with her lipstick. when he speaks it’s like a choir of angels singing. when he bats his big baby deer eyes it’s like everything is good in the world like the proletariat has seized the means of production. when he pulls that bashful smile it’s like wow. he tells her he’s so glad she chose this topic for the project that he didn’t know about Lorca before this. she beams and makes a note to buy Lorca’s books for him to borrow. anything for an excuse to talk to him. anything for him. he stays long after the project is completed. probably out of pity because she’s oh so sad oh so pathetic. he remembers everything she says too. he listens to all her little dumb girl things babbling about this and about that. he laughs when she makes a self-deprecating joke. she’s in heaven. she wants to buy him a drink. she wants to do something for him an obligation for the time he has wasted seeing her. a burning desire to give anything to give everything to him to make this last forever. her plus him plus this pub plus forever equals happiness. he’s the only thing that makes her happy. except he doesn’t want anything from her. except the moment doesn’t last forever. except he has to get going he says but he’ll see her around he says. he doesn’t ask her to text him when she gets home. he doesn’t love her. her eyes tear up. she gets another beer.

.

she is a sad thing. she’s sitting at the bar with her kind of friend. it’s loud with live music blaring and she can only half hear what her kind of friend is saying. the bartender is a beautiful boy with dark hair and tattooed arms. she smiles at him too much when he serves her again and again and again. she thinks that if she tips him well maybe he’ll like her more than her kind of friend. her kind of friend is a beautiful girl. it’s difficult to be a not so beautiful girl with a kind of friend who is a beautiful girl. it’s always a competition. a silent unwanted competition. her or her? who would he choose? her or her? she masturbated before she got here so she’s worried that maybe they can all smell it on her. she showered afterwards but still she’s worried. she tries not to touch the free popcorn with the hand she used to masturbate. the music’s too loud and not very good. she likes her kind of friend in the way that’s half jealousy half admiration. that’s her relationship with all girls though. she looks at her kind of friend with her perfect makeup and million-mile eyelashes. she opens her front-facing camera and looks at her own smudged makeup. she puts her phone down quickly. she zones out of the conversation staring at the beautiful bartender wondering what he does when he’s not here when she hears her kind of friend say her beautiful bashful boy’s name. her stomach plummets. her kind of friend says she’s kind of seeing the beautiful bashful boy that it’s just lowkey but you know. oh wow. she wants to cry. her eyes tear up and she orders another drink. she tells her kind of friend that she kind of likes the beautiful bashful boy too. her kind of friend smiles and laughs and says well he’s a good kisser. and she smiles and laughs and they both discuss how beautiful and bashful the beautiful bashful boy is. if she had to choose someone to be with the beautiful bashful boy that isn’t her she guesses she would choose her kind of friend. she doesn’t blame him for choosing her kind of friend. she goes to the bathroom and has a quick cry and fixes her makeup before returning to the bar. she feels inferior. she thinks about death. she smiles at the bartender when he comes by.

.

she is a lonely thing. she wanders around the downtown part of her small town. it’s chilly out but she wears a skirt anyways. she’s never dressed correctly. she’s never correct. the wind whips up her skirt in front of a group of boys and she’s glad she wore her hot panties even though they’re the same ones she wore the day before. one of the boys is beautiful holding onto a skateboard and their eyes meet. for a moment she’s overwhelmed by love for him but it passes quickly. she’s not used to the feeling passing. she’s used to drowning in her desire. the beautiful bashful boy killed her love. or at least really maimed it. her love feels like a puppy with kicked in ribs with broken legs and a broken tail. like a forgotten puppy tied and dragged behind a truck here to california. like a puppy all battered and mangled who no one would ever want to adopt to love. like a puppy who’ll die at the pound dumped in the dumpster. that is what her love feels like. she thinks she would rather feel everything than feel like this. the emptiness forces her to think about what she hasn’t done think about the ways she has wasted her sad little life. she wonders how successful she would’ve been if all the time she spent dreaming of the beautiful bashful boy was put into something productive. love is not productive. love paralyses her. as she wanders she tries to conjure up the beautiful bashful boy’s face in her mind. she hasn’t seen him in weeks. all she can conjure is the face of her kind of friend and she feels like she might puke. she thinks about how easy life would be if she was beautiful like her kind of friend. how lovely everything would be. a beautiful face. a beautiful life. a beautiful boy. she left her phone at home so she wouldn’t have to be faced with the lack of people texting her. she keeps reaching in her pocket for her phone again and again out of habit. she wants to get rid of her phone but she knows she won’t. she’s tired of wanting and wanting and wanting. she wanders around. the beautiful bashful boy doesn’t use social media so she can’t even keep up with him on the down-low. she looks at her reflection in the large glass windows. she realizes she’s forgotten to brush her hair. she thinks how crazy it is that she exists when there’s no one there to see her. she hesitates by her favorite bar but when she sees her friends in there she keeps walking. she follows where her feet take her and ends up back at that little shack the beautiful bizarre boy showed her. it’s much less spooky when she’s alone. she sits and leans against the structure’s wooden walls and listens to the sound of the river rushing. her dreamy head is far up in the clouds. she dreams about new york city. she dreams about running into the beautiful bashful boy someday in the city in a coffee shop or bar. like you know straight from a movie scene. the soundtrack would be a cheesy song something lovey dovey something like two of hearts or you know fuck the pain away. she dreams that he’ll realize how much he has missed her all these years. she dreams that by then she will have grown into a beautiful girl thing beautiful enough to be near him. the part of her that’s filled with dead butterflies knows better.

.

she is a girl thing

Morghen Tidd (she/her) is a writer from Maine who is interested in writing narratives that mix the mundane with the grotesque through exploring the experiences of girls. She received her MA in English from the University of Maine and now she is floating through space. She has work in or forthcoming in Heavy Feather Review, Overheard Magazine, and Squawk Back. Find her on Twitter and Instagram: @spookymorghen

---

Why we chose this piece: This examination of femininity and how people cultivate a sense of self resonated with us so much. We love the syntax and brutally honest voice; we felt called out in the best way possible because of our own experiences trying to find our footing as adults. Who gave her the damn right to invade our heads without warning? It comes as no surprise that Long Day Press recently offered Morghen a publication deal for her collection of “girl thing” stories, and we are so thrilled for her!