I found the most charming hashtag on Tik Tok. #questionsforthestraightgirls And being a genuinely straight woman I thought I’d take a gander at the posts out of morbid curiosity.
…Of course most of the posts were made for narcissistically closeted bisexuals.
And, being the victim of a child weirdly closeted bisexual, narcissistic woman on Instagram in the perfume community who probably had a crush on me and took it the wrong way when I always rejected her…since I’m straight…it enraged me. Each one. I’m currently seething.
“Also, the person who stalked you using the Illuminati years ago is probably mentally-ill in a way that puts him out of touch with reality. …Should the Illuminati…even exist.” says Louis.
“He would be insane in the colloquial sense of the word. You’re right.” Lacey muses.
“People possibly missed that somehow though…”
“Are you worried they’ll try to kill your for calling them out?” asks Lacey.
“Yes!” says Louis humorously.
“I feel threatened too!” says Scott.
“Why do people not get that if you’re at all attracted to women it means you’re not straight.” says Lacey.
“Because they don’t want to be kicked-out of the straight person club.” says Lem.
“It’s a very prestigious, exclusive club. Gay men have made their club exclusive now too. In a way. But queer women, especially those with at least narcissistic tendencies struggle to label orientations appropriately.” says Harold.
“You know what!?” says a self-righteous hater. “Yeah! I’m a hater, I guess. If you had a real following, which you don’t. And don’t give me that bullshit about your 6,000 followers. I had that many in a day! And I went to Harvard extension school. And my dad is worth a million Dollars. And I’m hot. And I have a girlfriend. And you’re a nobody. A nobody! …Your great granduncle was a piece of shit! My ass is a bigger deal than he ever was! …I’m a really, really, really, really big deal. Okay!? When you come to my art…because that’s what I am. I’m a fucking artist! Not an crap face idiot like you! …When you come to my art…you bow! You bow like I’m a mother-fucking King! Okay you ugly old bitch-whore!”
*the insane laugh*
“Who do you think reads your blog?” asks Louis.
“People who hate me for narcissistic reasons mostly.” answers Lacey.
“Do you think a woman can find another women attractive at all and be straight?” asks Louis.
“No. No. …No.” says Lacey.
“Do you think Woody Allen impersonators are hot?” asks Louis.
“Mildly.” Lacey responds.
“Just mildly?!” asks Louis, aghast.
“Did your great granduncle but his title?!” asks a hater.
“Like my family did?!” asks Michael Rockefeller, confused.
“What irritates me more than anything is how dumb people can be. How can you be a progressive with the ideal of making being queer more accepted in society when you bully straight woman into labeling themselves queer and then are gullible and stupid enough to believe bisexual or pansexual women are straight? They’re lying. …Lying.”
“You can’t stand how violently righteous queer women become about normalizing lying bisexuals?” Louis laughs. “They don’t want to think straight people exist. At all. Some queer men are like that too. They’re viciously facist, violent fundamentalists of the left.” he says seriously.
“Straight people exist. Doesn’t mean whoever is reading this is one of them. But they do exist.” says Lem.
“Well, excuse me! I’m the one being attacked! I’m the one being oppressed! You jackass!” says a living queer female hater to Lem.
“Are you a lesbian or bisexual or?” asks JFK turning on his charm to the extreme.
“I’m mostly a lesbian.” she responds, taken aback.
“Are you thinking he’ll sleep with you?” asks Lacey of the hater.
The queer female hater grows uncomfortable.
“She thinks she’s being bullied. Look at her anxiety. Her legs are bouncing.” Lacey says. “No, it’s just that you gave lesbian vibes.” says Lacey.
The woman looks at her quizzically. The woman shifts uncomfortably in her seat. A look falls on the woman’s face that triggers Lacey.
“You’re a female player? Aren’t you?” asks Lacey.
She is. This woman is a player. She leaves in embarrassment.
“Oh well. I thought that confrontation might help us all understand something better about the world. But I think that woman was just trying to feel special.” says Lacey.
“By being the only woman to ever exist who has ever been able to prove in a real way that you aren’t straight? Or even better yet, make you queer with her rare gifts of seduction, I guess.” says Michael.
“Except you are devoid of any and all sexual interest in other women. And non-binary people too.” says Louis to Lacey.
“I cannot be the exception. No. I think I’m an actual straight person. …And technically, if you can find a sane sex person attractive I don’t think you’d be categorized as straight.” says Lacey.
“But then that means that tuft can’t seduce you. And if they’re narcissistic that’s very demoralizing.” says Lem.
“Why do we care?!” asks Lacey.
“Because people have forced you, basically emotionally raped you into caring.” says Louis to Lacey.
“What?! Queer women can’t bully privileged, white, straight women! Not in America!” says Lem sarcastically. “That’s not a thing!”
“I really jest hate the stupidity of it all.” says Lacey.
“What if they’re mostly all losing their minds in some way?” asks Lem.
“You’re supposed to be smited by their reading your blog and stalking you without you knowing it. It’s the Information Age, Lacey. And they have the information!” says Louis.
“You’re wrong!” says Lem. “It’s the Age of Influence.”
“Instead of the Age of Innocence?” asks Edith Wharton. “We’ve evolved?”
“This sounds stupid! If you’d gone to Harvard Extension School you’d sound less stupid.” says the hater.
“Oh! He’s still gonna prove his self-perceived superiority. Golly!” says Lem.
“Oh yeah? Where’d you go to school you Eastern European, white-trash dumbass?!” asks the hater.
“I went to Choate, Princeton and then did graduate work at Harvard. The real one.” says Lem.
“He’s-“ his mother starts.
“He’s not white-trash.” says his father apologetically.
“Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah! We’ll just you wait! I’ll show you!” says Red Fay in imitation of the hater.
“My ex father-in-law went to Harvard Business School.” says Lacey.
“You’re a schizophrenic!” says a hater with conviction to Lacey.
“Why?” asks Lacey.
“You’re making that up! You’re making it all up!” the male hater says.
“No. I’m not.” Lacey says feeling scared. Scared because she really isn’t making anything up.
“You’re not hallucinating anything but us.” says Lem.
“You don’t fit any of the criteria for schizophrenia. And we’re ghosts. Not hallucinations.” says Louis.
“Or you’re demons.” says Lacey.
“No! No! See, if she was telling the truth or not crazy she’d not keep explaining herself. She wouldn’t feel the need to explain herself. It’d all just be obvious.” says the narcissistic queer (straight “identifying”) woman from the perfume “community” online?
“I mean…whatever. But yeah, I mean. She’s a piece of shit compared to me too. So…” says a bully from high school who reads her blog. “I make as much as a doctor would make combined with my husband’s salary. So…we’re kind of a big deal.”
“Whatever! You don’t exist!” says the hater from the perfume community.
“I don’t exist?!” says the bully from high school.
“She’s a poor kid. Right? She was poor and stupid and ugly?” asks the hater.
“Oh my god! I love you!” says a fellow perfume community member. “I’m a big deal too. I own an insurance company.” she says proudly.
“You own an insurance company?” asks Lacey. “Like you sell insurance?”
“Yeah! Like your uncle owns an electric company. No body but really rich people own actual electric companies.” says the hater’s back-up.
“Don’t worry! I looked into it. Her uncle probably does own an electric company but it’s worth like two cents!” says the husband of another perfume community hater. “I’m a big deal. And I’m on your side! Not her’s!”
“She grew-up in a closeted home.” interrupts one of Lacey’s old friends.
“Like you were in the closet?” asks a lesbian hatefully of Lacey.
“Whatever! I’m never wrong! I’ve never embarrassed myself or my family. I’m never wrong.” says the hater.
“What? I’m agreeing with you?” asks the lesbian.
“How is she supposed to stop explaining when she keeps being attacked relentlessly?!” asks Lem. “You don’t get it. That homily doesn’t apply in this situation, you idiot!”
“You never understood. You felt slighted the second you found my account and set off on a determined course to attack me endlessly until I got hurt or someone else hurt me and you could take credit.” says Lacey to the hater. “My anger was never really at you. I thought you were unhinged and I empathized. But you needed it to be about you to feel okay inside.”
“So…what was it that made you most angry about Lacey?” asks Michael of the hater.
“You don’t own the 5 million Dollar estate your cousin does.” says his brother to Lacey.
“No. But 5 million isn’t that much.” says Lacey.
“It’s not a tiny estate though.” says Babe.
“True. It has a nice view too.” says Lacey.
“So, why do you feel so hateful of Lacey?” asks the lesbian player of the hater.
“I mean.” the hater throws her hair back. “I just hate how condescending she was. Like, she was obviously trying to be nice to me. And everyone felt that way after a while. Like, she thought it was her duty.” the hater responds.
“I mean, it seems like she got hurt though.”
“I idolized her!”
The player looks confused.
“It’s a complicated story.” she sighs apologetically.
“No! I’m all ears.”
The hater sighs. “I don’t know. She was just weird. Like, how do I describe her?”
“Yeah! Right?” the player acts mysteriously hurt.
“Oh whatever! I’m sure you get lots of ass!”
The player shrugs coyly. Smiles beguilingly at the hater. Briefly flashes eye-contact.
“What?! What are you grinning about?” asks the hater.
“Nothin’!” says the player coyly. Blushing on purpose.
And then…in a matter of minutes they initiate actions that precede lesbian sexual intercourse.
“You must have been gay? Or no? You’re-“ Jack seems confused but searching for whatever it is that can still make Lacey safely inferior.
“She’s a queer!” says a queer perfume collector.
“Your spirit is rotting.” says Jack. “It stinks. Eww.”