Second Place: Creative Nonfiction
Appeal of a Sidedish Darren Defreitas
Could you imagine being single YET! You’re a strong independent woman (or man) that don’t need no man! Until the night comes around, and you’re lying in solitude in a queen sized bed, caressing a velvet white pillow, and imagining it’s the chest of the man you don’t need. The thing about beds is most of them are, in fact, large enough for two people. To be honest, I think they’re all built that way, with the exception college dorm room beds, of course. Those ungodly creations aren’t even suited for one person. The one thing everybody seems to be afraid of is dying alone. Nobody wants to be a lonely cat lady. We’re all out there in the world, searching for a special someone, and it’s all some people care about. As juvenile and overly optimistic as it sounds, it’s true, and some people would do anything to find this, even for a brief moment. As the saying goes, “It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” As for me? My saying has always been: “Meh, I’m gucci.” Which roughly translates to “I am content with just the way things are.” The person I am is very much capable of being both this intelligent as well as stupid all at once. That’s, actually one of the more telling things I’ve learnt about myself. Somehow, I manage to win the coveted award of number one genius and professional dumbass. Sometimes, or should I more accurately say rarely, I make mistakes, and I’m wrong about things. The millennial generation of women are quite amusing. Never has a generation of females been so proud to proclaim they’re sleeping with another woman’s man. I swear to god, these women treat men like Pokémon trading cards. Quite honestly, it’s the most ridiculous phenomenon I’ve ever witnessed. What could possibly be the allure in being the “Other woman?” And, as mysterious and cool as the name just sounded, it’s not. I myself have been the other woman, except not really, because I’m a man but it doesn’t even matter, to be quite frank. It’s 2019, and anything goes. I remember the first time I met him, on the luxurious, high end, prestigious website known as Facebook. It was love at first sight! Our eyes locked! Except not really, because we were online liking each other’s photos, which is pretty much the modern day equivalent of love at first sight. After sliding into the DM’s, as the youth say nowadays, we texted, and he was very quick to mention he was already in a relationship; and, just like a transformer, my brain recalibrated its settings. “Next!” I did have every intent to bypass this man for the next best thing, but he clearly had other plans. After lying to him, and telling him I didn’t have a phone number, despite owning a cell phone, I eventually gave him the number I claimed to not have, which resulted in him calling me out on my lie. I bluntly 95
