Daily Dialogue: Dirty Dancing

For 20 minutes, I take a pen to paper and write two people talking complete and utterly unprepared.

Melanie

This music’s awesome!

 

Helen

I know, right?

 

Melanie

Where’d you find it?

 

Helen

Remember that trip to Ibiza?

 

Melanie

Spain?

 

Helen

Yeah!

 

Melanie

Yeah.

 

Helen

Well, there was a club—Well, there were lots of clubs, and one of them had this song.

 

Melanie

That’s amazing.

 

Helen

Kinda-sorta. Ibiza’s the place during a particular season where those who live above a certain BPM and love a certain lifestyle can lose their shit for a while.

 

Melanie

With a certain income, too, I bet.

 

Helen

Hey, I saved up all year so I don’t wanna hear any lip.

 

Melanie

How much did you save?

 

Helen

The point is that I enjoyed myself and managed to not catch anything with all the free love going on.

 

Melanie

“Free love?”

 

Helen

Fucking, girl! The kind that makes your legs not work and makes everything so blurry that you’re afraid you’re blind! You wake up the next day in your hotel room and you’re back to normal, though.

 

Melanie

Blurry vision? What kind of sex do you have?

 

Helen

The best kind, Melanie.

 

Melanie

What’s that?

 

Helen

The orgasmic kind, silly.

 

Melanie

Oh. I don’t have those.

 

Helen

What-what-WHAT?!

 

Melanie

I mean, sex feels good but I never came. Others have with me, so I guess I’m doing something right.

 

Helen

Bull-SHIT. Sometimes the end is better than the journey, girl.

 

Melanie

I dunno what to tell you, then.

 

Helen

Were you molested?

 

Melanie

What the fuck?

 

Helen

It’s ok, you can tell me. Was it our second-grade teacher? That fucker! Oops, bad choice of words.

 

Melanie

I’d hate to live in your mind. A woman’s never had an orgasm and the first thing you think of is molestation?

 

Helen

What? I read that it’s a reason.

 

Melanie

And you instantly make me a victim?

 

Helen

Yeah, you’re right, I fucked up. What do you think it could be?

 

Melanie

No clue. Everything works down there, according to my gynecologist. Beth told me—

 

Helen

You and your gynecologist are on a first-name basis?

 

Melanie

She’s paid to look at my vagina, I think that allows for a certain level of intimacy. Not that kind. ANYway… Beth told me that it might be psychological.

 

Helen

Lemme guess: your eyes drift.

 

Melanie

What do you mean?

 

Helen

Your eyes drift. You’re having sex and it feels good but when it feels TOO good… your eyes drift. You’re too worried of making a fool of yourself when you hit the higher note and you look for distractions.

 

Melanie

That’s so weird that you know that.

 

Helen

I used to do it, too. Why do you think that my bedroom had a lot of random shit around it for a while after I got my new place?

 

Melanie

I always wondered about that elephant.

 

Helen

It got to the point where I used to play matching games while going reverse-cowgirl.

 

Melanie

What made you stop drifting?

 

Helen

I stood in front a mirror nude and made the goofiest fucking noises and faces possible. I knew that it’d never get as bad as then, then I became a multi-orgasmer.

 

Melanie

Huh. What time does that thrift store close?

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