Ice To Meet You

D's get degrees

The Uber ride is humdrum but I can't wait to get back to my room and tell Hannah all about tonight. I unlock the door to our room and the lights are off; her bed is empty, maybe she's in the library. I quickly shoot her a text.

I don't want to think about tonight and maybe this is a sign from the universe that I should sleep it off. I take my makeup off, thank god for Neutrogena wipes. I am too lazy to wash my face and before I know it, I am dreaming of golden retrievers.

I wake up to the sound of Hannah howling hysterically. I storm out of my covers, hop on her bed and wrap my arms around her.

"What's wrong?" I ask, my voice thick with sleep. I tenderly pat her back and force my brain to wake up. Did she not finish her work? Did the group not show up?

"Hannah, what the fuck is wrong?" I shake her shoulders, running out of patience. This is killing me. She wipes her snot with the sleeve of her hoodie, the same one she was wearing last night when I left for the party. I have a sinking feeling that something terrible has already happened. Hannah, like me, does not cry easily. Her eyes are swollen and her nose is red, both signs that she has been crying all night.

"Hannah!?" I pester, the not knowing is killing me.

"You're going to judge the fuck out of me."

"Han, I will never judge you," okay maybe a little, sometimes but I get over it. Our bond is unconditional and I do try my best.

"I sucked the dreadful teaching assistant's dick," she sobs. Why is she crying about that? She's had one night stands before, with much (believe me here) worse people. 

"Did he hurt you?" I will kill that swine if he did. 

"No, I could deadlift him if I wanted to," she could, he is scrawny. Also, Han is shockingly strong. 

"Then why are you crying? Nobody cares that he wasn't particularly attractive and nobody has to ever know about it," college is almost over. 

"Mia, I sucked his dick to pass the class," she grimly declares.

"What the fuck!" inner bitchy me says

"Be supportive Mia!" The inner voice is holding her palm forward, ready to hit the inner bitch if I don't shut her up. 

"Jeez, calm down psycho." inner bitch replies to the inner voice and they both are glaring at each other. I need help. 

"That's no big deal," the words are out before I can examine them. Why don't I think before I speak? 

"Act like you meant what you just said and make her feel better, sleeping with someone for a grade is no big deal." The inner voice is grooming me to handle the crises. 

Hannah looks at me bemused, I need to get a grip.

"I mean, so what? You did it, you are Hannah Smith, it's no big deal," I reassure her. What am I saying? Why am I shooting myself in the foot? 

"You mean I am a slut anyway so what's the big deal that I sucked his dick to pass the class" she screams at me and that is not what I meant at all. I just don't know what to say and everything I am saying is sounding wrong, horribly wrong. 

"Hannah that's not what I meant at all," I clarify. How do I convey my intentions clearly when my words are betraying me?

"What did you mean Mia?" She folds her arms in defense and I can tell she is hurt. What have I just done?

"You got this! Just calmly tell her that you support her," the inner voice chimes in. 

"I meant... Oh god! Not anything you're thinking, I just, Hannah you will do anything to succeed... You are a lioness and you don't fucking lose. Either you find a way to win or you dig your own underground tunnel. So, what if you fucked your TA to pass the class, you are done with college now. You're a fucking graduate and that's all that matters," I really don't want her to feel like shit and just because I won't do something like this does not mean I have the right to judge her. It's her life and her body

"Exactly!" the inner voice says and hits the inner bitch with her stiletto, channeling her inner Cardi B. I am too much in my head. My inner voice has an alter ego and she is hostile. 

"To clarify, I sucked his dick,"

"Okay, I stand corrected. So, what if you sucked his dick to pass the class?"

"I am a slut."

"No, you're not. You did what you had to do to succeed. You're a hustler." I don't think there is anything wrong with being a slut but I don't get to say that right now. That might hurt her feelings further.

"I feel dirty," she says with tears streaming down her eyes. I wipe her tears and hold her in my arms. If she was another female, I would totally consider her a slut but Hannah, she's a sweetheart. She's kind and loyal and fierce and also, sexually overactive but does that take away from all the other things she is? Am I a hypocrite for judging other women for the same things I will forgive my best friend for in a second?

"Mia, am I a bad person?" She asks with her deep blue eyes begging for reassurance.

"No," she's really not. "You just did something that isn't 100% moral but that doesn't make you a bad person."

It is unethical and immoral but you have your best friend's back even when she's wrong, right?

"It won't hurt anyone," she adds and she's right.

"It is grossly unfair to all the other students who studied and did their work on time," inner bitch says and even though I agree with what she's saying, I don't voice my feelings. Sometimes people are who they are and you've got to love them through it all. And this bitch needs to go back to hibernation because seriously she is vicious. The last time I could hear her this clearly, I was in high school getting bullied for my weight. 

We get salads for breakfast, hit the gym and I tell her all about William. She thinks William has the potential to be toxic to my sanity and I agree. He has a girlfriend. 

I spend hours looking at Sophia's pictures on Instagram while packing my stuff in boxes. She went to Haiti in 2014 to help rebuild the community after the hurricane. She was also the prom queen in her high school, no surprises there I guess. Hannah doesn't think she is out of this world but she is also my best friend. Her opinion does not count. She comes across as a fun-loving social butterfly that has the perfect body. Her feed has countless bikini pictures from all around the world and I am almost tempted to know what her diet is. What does she eat? Does she eat at all? I need to work out harder. 

Later that day I ask Hannah, "If you had to do it all over again, would you still do what you did?"

She looks at me and then looks away, her eyes deep in thought as she puts her clothes in boxes. She doesn't say anything for a while and I let it go, we have a lot to do. Maybe somethings are best left unanswered, I open my laptop to finalize our apartment in New York. 

"I would," I wait for her to finish the sentence but she doesn't say anything further. I am not sure what to say too, so I say nothing at all. I think we've found an apartment within our budget in Brooklyn. 

"Mia?" she softly calls out to me.

I look up from the laptop and she is biting her lip. She only does that when she's holding on to words she is dying to spill.

"Yup,"

"I would do it again if I have to. As you said, I like to win, no matter the consequences and if a guy did it, do you think he'd have to worry about being called a slut? I did what I had to do and I do regret it but not enough to not do it again. Next time I just hope he's somewhat hot." Would I look down on a guy if he did something like this? 

As I pack my shoes and label the boxes, I can't help but sit down and write my first article for the sex and relationship column.

Is it unfair to use your body to get ahead in life?

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