🧪 😏 Respectfully, You’re Hot 😏 🧪 (F4A) (Friends to Lovers) (Tomboy Witch Bestie Takes a Truth Potion) (Confession)

Transcript

Hello? It's open, even though it probably shouldn't be, cause that's dangerous and apparently opportunists are opportunistic. So why I haven't closed and locked the door is anybody's guess.

Hello. Howdy doody, how's it going? Good.

I'll tell you how it's howdy-doing going here. I have made a very small but very impactful error? Miscalculation? Misstep? Something that is slightly negative but could spiral into being very bad.

So, your girl here obviously struggles with speaking to people. So I thought, why not put your witchiness to good use? Make yourself an adorable little potion that makes you more relaxed and authentic.

And sure enough, I became more relaxed and authentic. So much so that it became impossible to even utter a simple courtesy when I didn't feel like uttering one. I've heard the worst thing of all.

Utter, unfiltered sincerity. A 100% effective truth serum, apparently. I know I should have just taken Soloft.

But here we are and I don't like to rely too much on modern medicine. And don't even get me started with the politics. It's not real witchcraft.

Oh, God. Great question. I have invited you here because I need you to do a very important job.

I need you to watch me. And stop me from opening my mouth. Well, you see, on top of being a truth serum, it turns out it also lowers your inhibitions.

Not quite as effectively as alcohol, but still. It makes you more authentic, more relaxed, and best of all, it makes you give less of a fuck. Oh, about everything.

About my sister's baby, about my brother's new car, and everything to do with my co-worker's pictures of her grandchildren. I do not care. I don't want babies of my own.

I don't want to see your baby's babies. Because fundamentally, I don't really care about anything besides myself, my small family, and animals. And fried chicken.

And I'm aware that that's not exactly desirable, so I was wondering if you could just sit there, nice and cozy and toasty and just, uh, you know, guard me. Because you're a wonderful friend and you'd be happy to do that. You see, you cannot argue with me.

I'm not even trying to manipulate you. That's just what I think. Well, maybe I have poor judgment, but that's not what's up for debate here, okay? Just my sincerity.

And my sincerity says, please watch me. Because you're loyal, trustworthy, and you care about me. So you wouldn't want me to, you know, fuck up my life? You are 100% a good egg.

I appreciate you. Your time starts now. I don't know.

Sit there, watch me, make sure I don't call my ex. And now that idea is in my brain. Marvelous.

Do you remember how he just ghosted me? He ghosted me four years. Four years of compassion and empathy and knockout sex, even when I was tired.

The epitome of ungrateful mediocrity. And I had sex with him. Not only did I have sex with him, I stroked his ego.

I told him he was wonderful. I told him his mother was crazy. She wasn't.

And then to ghost me like I'm someone he was talking to for a week on Hinch. I would do unspeakable things to that man, and not in the way he enjoyed. I want to say things to him and throw objects at his head and deplete all the happy chemicals in his brain.

Because I'm an anxious avoidant, and I don't handle rejection well. And I need to work on that very much so. And I would like to, but I'm lazy.

No self-deprecation, just sincerity. I am tired. I'm supposed to work at the apothecary, get along with my colleagues, exercise, maintain healthy relationships at work and in my personal life, and also study.

And look after my cats. And somehow find true love in the dumpster fire that is the universe. I am tired.

Someone just bring me a loving spouse and place them in my arms. I am serious, and I'm lazy, and I just. ..

I want. .. I want a boyfriend or a girlfriend.

I want someone to snuggle with. I want someone to be annoying to. I want to eat with them and be weird and put my cold toes on the back of their legs.

But everybody sucks. Or at least the people I've encountered are, which is enough evidence for me to confirm my bias and stay inside. I'm going to tell you something I've always wanted to tell you.

Your face annoys me. You want to know why? It's hot.

You heard me. It is aesthetically pleasing, and that is so annoying. In fact, all of you is annoying.

With your nice hair, and your nice smelling clothes, and your nice pretty hands, and your general pleasant demeanor. It's like, oh, look at me. I'm physically and emotionally desirable.

Hmm. But I am self-aware enough to realize that the only reason I feel that way is because I'm scared to tell you how I feel. Well, one, you're good looking.

Two, you're good feeling. Three, you're good smelling. And four, you're my best friend.

And it's like you've never given me any inkling that you think I'm good looking, or good smelling, or good feeling, or just good. And I'm not blaming you for that. I just, it doesn't give me a lot of hope.

So then I end up just disassociating and thinking, best leave that alone. What are you talking about? You are annoyingly pretty.

You are, your face. Uh, because look at your face. Oh, I forget you have shitty self-esteem.

Please trust me. You're hot. Because I tried really hard not to have feelings for you, and I was like, no, no.

So what? They're pretty. It doesn't matter.

I'll just focus on, you know, the other attributes. And I was like, I can't. They're really pretty.

So then we spent time together, and then I was like, god damn, this motherfucker has the nerve to have a good personality. Anyway, I will not let your hotness ruin our friendship. So, thank you once again for being a good friend, and for stopping me from potentially ruining your friendship.

And I'll see you next time. That could upend my life. Did I just tell you I like you? You weren't supposed to hear that.

But I'm struggling to worry about it right now. Maybe by the time the potion's worn off, you'll just decide, eh, let's not bring that up again. Of course I'd understand.

Feelings, as we have previously discussed, are yucky. Are yucky. Oh, they're inconvenient, and they're heavy, and they make you sad and tired, and you're like, leave me alone.

I get it, I understand. In fact, I could probably whip up a memory erasure potion for you. Come on, it'd be on the house.

I'm not a monster. Well, at least not that kind, anyway. Oh my god, what part of I made a truth serum do you not comprehend? This is not a joke, this is not a prank, this is not- hey, gotcha! I am 100% sure that I'm not a monster.

100% sincerely saying you are visually pleasing to the eye. And the heart and the other parts, but you know. Whatever.

And by whatever, of course, I mean let's change the subject. Have you watched the latest episode of the dragon shell? We don't need to talk about that anymore.

Because it was always going to come out eventually and now we can move past it and just be grown-ups and say, hey, don't worry about it, man. Crush just happened. You'll be fine and you'll live to pine another day.

I don't need to hear your pity party condolence of I really like you as a friend, but no, we don't. Because I got it, okay? I understand.

We don't need to do the whole script. Because it is what it is, okay? I'm a big girl, I have cats, I'll be good.

I mean, you're not wrong, but specifically why? Oh. You are smart.

Mm-hmm. Okay. I understand putting on the brave panties.

Go for it.