The Time Has Come
by
Amanda Conner
Trying to get yourself off while watching RuPaul’s Drag Race is not any easy feat.
It isn’t the drag queens that fuel your desire. The big hair, stiletto heels, or the beaded gowns.
No.
It’s because during the first commercial break, you read his text message over-and-over.
I want you.
An ad for auto insurance plays in the background. Rates as low as twenty dollars a month for safe drivers.
But what about forgiveness?
With every selfish motion, you think of him. His scent staining your ripped jeans and his cracked fingertips running through your hair.
However, he isn’t the one you truly long for.
You remember your therapist telling you, “He is just a distraction from self-discovery.”
Like a stranger walking into your closet. Mixing your little black dress with your white capris.
Your breath becomes shallow and your back arches as hear a woman on T.V. say, “This foldaway mirror is double-sided, with one side giving you a small view of your face, while the other side magnifies every crease, hair, and pore!”
You can feel the pressure building as the show returns, and you hear RuPaul reading one of the queens for her lack of self-awareness.
“We want to see you. More importantly, we want you to see yourself.”
Right as you turn your head to look at the screen, you feel the tears beginning to well at the soft edges.
And before the queen can respond, your body lets everything go.
It isn’t the drag queens that fuel your desire. The big hair, stiletto heels, or the beaded gowns.
No.
It’s because during the first commercial break, you read his text message over-and-over.
I want you.
An ad for auto insurance plays in the background. Rates as low as twenty dollars a month for safe drivers.
But what about forgiveness?
With every selfish motion, you think of him. His scent staining your ripped jeans and his cracked fingertips running through your hair.
However, he isn’t the one you truly long for.
You remember your therapist telling you, “He is just a distraction from self-discovery.”
Like a stranger walking into your closet. Mixing your little black dress with your white capris.
Your breath becomes shallow and your back arches as hear a woman on T.V. say, “This foldaway mirror is double-sided, with one side giving you a small view of your face, while the other side magnifies every crease, hair, and pore!”
You can feel the pressure building as the show returns, and you hear RuPaul reading one of the queens for her lack of self-awareness.
“We want to see you. More importantly, we want you to see yourself.”
Right as you turn your head to look at the screen, you feel the tears beginning to well at the soft edges.
And before the queen can respond, your body lets everything go.
NUNUM
Blending Flash Fiction & Art
