The Whiner

Nastya Tailakova

It was summer, and I was on tour as a children's theater performer. I was the manager of and an actor in the four-person troupe. The show was the kind where one of you has to dress up as the Pink Panther before each show, make the kiddies laugh, and try not to die in the sweltering heat and heavy costume. None of my castmates were remotely attractive to me (and I had a boyfriend back home). One was a vegetarian who talked about his "choice" incessantly, one was a girl who looked like a frog, and the last guy was a whiner who mooched everything he possibly could. The summer possibilities seemed dismal.

After a few weeks, it became apparent that Whiney the Moocher was into me. If we went out, he was always in my face denouncing any guy I thought was somewhat good-looking. He laughed really hard at all the stupid jokes I made. Out of character, he made me a sandwich from his own supply of food. He piggy-backed me home one night when I cut my foot on some glass in the classy establishment where we'd been drinking, only to do the awkward fall-on-some-grass-try-to-make-out maneuver. Despite all the attention, I wasn't having any of it. 

About a week before our contract was up and we were due to drive back home, I got really sick. I asked Whiney to get me some strong cold and flu pills so that I could knock myself out. He did, and about four hours later I woke up to him cuddling me.  My first reaction was "This is insane, I think, but it feels soooo nice." We started kissing, and then all of a sudden we were having sex. In retrospect, this may have been a little shady on his part. Luckily (for both of us), the sex was awesome.  

For the whole trip back (about a week of driving and random hotel rooms across America), we had crazy sex that we tried in vain to hide from the others. It wasn't long before we went our separate ways. But that was still long enough for him to write me a love poem and profess his undying love.  — Fae Labelle, of Flight Attendant Love 

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