Dear Girls Above Me: Inspired by a True Story by Charles Mcdowell

exit. Luke was already mingling with multiple female contenders, so I felt zero remorse leaving him alone for a moment. As I approached the door that would lead me out of my current nightmare, a couple of familiar voices held me back.
    “Hey, you can’t leave yet!” Claire called to me in a drunken lilt.
    “Yeah, you aren’t allowed to leave for like three hundred hours,” Cathy added.
    I slowly turned around, hoping they were talking to someone else. They weren’t. “Hey, you guys.”
    “You guys? You’re the guy! Hi, my name’s Claire.”
    Was I that unmemorable? Did I look that much different in a pastelshirt? I had literally sat on her couch and almost started sobbing in front of her when I landed on my ex-girlfriend in the texting game only twenty-four hours ago. How did she not remember me? Surely Cathy was bound to know who I was.
    “Claire, you idiot. You know him. That’s Stephanie’s new lawyer boyfriend!”
    “Oh my God, that’s you! Now I remember!” Claire’s eyes lit up.
    I tried reasoning with them. “Wait, what? No, I can assure you that’s not me—”
    “Of course that’s you! You’re all smart, using lawyer words like assure .” They had a point; I did use that word.
    “I’m pretty certain that’s a common word in the English language,” I said, unsure why.
    “Uh-huh. Certain, common , you can’t even pretend not to be all smart,” Cathy shouted.
    “And you’re wearing such a cute shirt,” Claire said to me in her forever-whining voice. Shirt-ah.
    “I was actually thinking about putting on something else. The men here don’t seem to be participating in the theme.”
    “Don’t change! That’s so Lamesville, USA! Hey, where’s Stephanie?”
    “She’s on her way.” I guess I’m officially someone who is defeated easily by females. Not only did I accept my role as the boyfriend of Stephanie, a girl whom I’d never met, but I was also somehow persuaded to stay in my Peachy V. Looked like it was going to be a “Charlie and Wyatt” night.
    As Cathy and Claire prepared celebratory shots, I directed my attention over at Luke, who seemed to be deep in conversation with Bridget. I could only imagine the rehearsed bullshit he was feeding her. This is how their conversation went in my head:

    BRIDGET: And that’s when I realized I was destined to save the beluga whales.
    LUKE: You’re an incredible human being. You know that, right?
    BRIDGET: You think so? It’s just, they can’t fight the fight on their own.
    LUKE: I know, I know. So … speaking of beluga whales—
    BRIDGET: Yeah, I’ll totally suck your dick.
    Mistaking my daydreaming for gazing longingly at Bridget, Claire leaned into me and said, “I won’t tell Stephanie you want Bridget.”
    “Oh, no, no. I don’t want her at all.”
    “Oh my God, are you gay?”
    “No, it’s just that I’m in a relationship with … Stephanie. And I care about her very much.” Who had I become, Mr. Ripley?
    She leaned in even closer. “I may be drunk, but I can tell you’re lying. I know you don’t really love Stephanie.” Well, at least she was right about something.
    I had no idea how to respond to her. I was living this lie too hard to remind Claire that I was her downstairs neighbor.
    “Come on, go talk to her. She’s way easier than she looks.” And with those eloquent words of wisdom, Claire shoved me in the direction of Bridget and Luke. I faintly heard Claire say to Cathy, “A V-neck does not suit Stephanie’s boyfriend at all.” In my head, I immediately started composing a letter:

Dear Urban Outfitters,
I recently patronized your establishment and was helped with my purchase by a bespectacled man named Sunshine. I would like to bring it to your attention that he let me buy a new Peachy with the V-neck, even though I obviously would have looked better in the regular collar. There were also thoughts in his head comparing me to a giant peach from a clay animation feature film for children. I have