“Shit, sorry, I mean–”
“It–It’s fine,” I stammer.
“Okay, good. Now, where were we?”
“Actually,” I hold my hands up to stop her. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Nikki stiffens, and her smile vanishes. “Really? Right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Look, I’m sorry about the misgendering,” she blurts, almost sounding irritated. “It’s something I know I need to work on. Like, I know you’re not a girl, but it’s tricky sometimes because I know what’s going on behind the curtain, you know what I mean?”
My face twists in disgust. “That’s not–eww, that’s–” I shake my head. Wow. “No, it’s not about that. Can we sit down or something?”
Nikki shoves away from me with a huff, heading into the living room. “You’re not dumping me, are you?”
I stare at her, unsure how to respond.
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, my god, you can’t be serious. Jesus fucking Christ–”
“Nikki, please hear me out.”
“It’s Oliver, isn’t it?” She laughs, almost hysterically. “Why am I always fucking right about everything?”
“It’s not Oliver’s fault,” I argue. “It’s mine. I’m the problem. Not you, and not him.”
She shakes her head emphatically, eyes staring past me and smiling wildly. “You know what? You two deserve each other.”
“Nikki, it’s not like that–”
“I’m sure it’ll be a lovely ceremony,” she continues. “So sickeningly sweet and so very cliché. You’ll make such a cute little housewife.”
I ball my fists. “Are you even listening to me? I’m not breaking up with you over Oliver.”
“Oh, but you are,” Nikki hisses. “Because this was all just an experiment for you, wasn’t it? A classic lesbian phase, a brief detour on your way to finding a nice husband to bring home to your homophobic family. Being with a woman threatens your comfortable lifestyle, and you can’t possibly disappoint Mommy and Daddy, or you’d be forced to work for the first time in your privileged little life.”
I stare at her, trembling uncontrollably. “That’s–that’s not–”
“Save it,” Nikki snaps, turning on her heel and heading for the door. “Enjoy your heteronormative roleplay for as long as it lasts. I hope the divorce isn’t too messy.”
“Nikki, wait, I’m sorry,” I call after her. “This isn’t how I wanted this to–”
“Delete my number and have a nice life.”
With that, the door slams shut, and I’m completely alone.
Friday, October 31, 2025
Where have crockpots been hiding all my life?
I’ve hated cooking for as long as I can remember. Buying fresh ingredients, preparing them, toiling over a hot stove or oven, and then cleaning up afterward? It’s the worst! Back when I lived at home, our family split the tasks, so cooking was a lot less daunting. But cooking on my own has made me despise it even more. How am I supposed to do this every day for the rest of my life?
However, Max and Vimlesh recently introduced me to the crockpot, and it’s absolutely changed the game. They both use theirs fairly often when they cook, and a full crockpot recipe usually feeds them for days. It’s usually very low-effort—you just put all the ingredients in the pot and let it slow-cook for however many hours the recipe calls for. And the pot itself is dishwasher-safe? It’s amazing! So far, I’ve made a few good dishes, several not-so-good ones, and at least two amazing ones.
Since it’s Halloween and I have the dorm to myself for the evening, I decided to try a weird recipe I found a couple of weeks ago and bought the ingredients for during my last grocery trip—Autumn Pumpkin Chili. It might be gross, but hey, there’s only one way to find out.
Just as I’m giving my chili a final stir in the crockpot, I hear a soft knock at the door. Strange—Theo left last night for Specter, and Max and Vimlesh are out at some nerd-themed Halloween party. I’m not expecting company.
