Love and Pixie Dust- A Bay Yanlış Reimagining.

When Bigfoot Got the News

I bet you look sexy as fuck wearing that. He answered immediately.

I repressed a smile. He was irresistible when he was being obnoxiously juvenile.

Do you ever think of anything besides sex? I scolded.

There was silence on his end and I went to put my phone down, thinking he was done texting nonsense for the night when another message caught my eye.

Yes. I think about you a lot.

My breath snagged in my throat. There were a few seconds of tense silence. Then another message popped up.

Naked.

Ugh. Of course, he did. I rolled my eyes at my gullibility. My stupid heart got all excited about words he probably said ten times a day to as many different women.

I sent him several eye-rolling emojis. After a few minutes, he began typing again.

I'm kind of sad your name isn't Gertrude. I had my heart set on calling you, Gertie.

What's wrong with my real name? I typed.

It's very whimsical. A termagant with a Napoleon complex should have a weighty name like Gertrude or Beulah.

I had to google termagant and grumbled at the definition.

I'll show you a termagant, I responded.

An adorable termagant, he texted back.

I ignored my silly thumping excitable heart.

It doesn't get any more whimsical than Pixie and I don't have a Napoleon complex, you jerk! I responded.

You wanna hit me, don't you? It was so cute when you would try to hurt me with your little Lilliputian fists.

I texted a barrage of angry emojis.

Meet me tomorrow for lunch. I'll let you tickle me with your fists.

I put the phone down. This was dangerous ground.

The phone rang a few minutes later.

"So are you seriously dating Dr. DoucheCanoe?" A deep voice drawled.

I dismissed the way my blood raced at the sound of his voice. "None of your business and he's not a douche." At least I hoped he wasn't. I didn't think Cansu would set me up with one.

"You know he's a gynecologist, don't you?" he said mischievously when I remained silent.

"Yes, so what?" I said innocently and then my brain woke up. "For the love of all that is holy, don't make one of your sophomoric jokes," I implored him.

"You love my sophomoric jokes," he asserted. I did but I'd never admit it.

"How can I put this?" He continued and I knew he was getting ready to say something outrageous. " Think of it this way, if you worked at a burger restaurant and you flipped burgers all day long, would you go home and eat burgers for dinner?"

An unwilling laugh burst out of me.

"You're the absolute worst," I scolded halfheartedly.

"Seriously, think about it."

"Maybe it depends on the quality of the burger at home," I countered.

"That's a good point," he said thoughtfully, and his silence had a surly feel. This hadn't gone the way he expected.

"How do you know he's a gynecologist?"

He went quiet and then said in a grudging tone, "I know him through his sister."