Brussels sprouted and all I got was this lousy…. Eggplant?

To commemorate my recent trip to Brussels, Belgium, I am compelled to tell you a moving story of love and devotion among friends…. 

Once upon a time there were three persons with three different interpretations of queerness in three very different, very jaded cities. They were the best of friends, and they showed their mutual affections by brushing each other’s hair, sending scarring YouTube videos under false pretext, making friendship bracelets and burning each other’s initials into woodchips surrounded by little hearts during shop class.

 On one particular evening, A and J had a slumber party while C was in a city far, far away. They all three desperately wanted to be together, and instant messenger just wasn’t doing justice to their close connection. Since brushing each other’s hair wasn’t really a possibility, and nothing really suits bosom buddies quite as well, J and C decided that it was time they told A just how much she meant to them….

“So, C, what should we do?”

“Dunno”

“We should try to convince her of something totally outrageous-” 

“You should convince her you have an STD!”

“No, no, it’s too obvious. She’d guess right away that it’s a joke.”

“Just see how far you can get”

“No. I don’t think it would work. First off, what would I say?”

“Just do it. You’re creative. You’ll figure out something.”

“But, J! Nooooooo! It’s not going to work.

“Just do it. I’ll get her to talk about what you’re telling her, and I’ll give you ideas as we go. Sound good?”

“Ugh. I guess.”

 So, since C is game for just about anything unseemly and a hopeless wuss in the face of peer pressure, C asked A if she could tell her something confidential, something she had told NO ONE, something that could damage her reputation throughout the rest of her college career, maybe even… her life.  

“Of course you can tell me!”

“No, I can’t. But I have to. But I can’t. Oh, A, it’s too difficult. You’ll never believe me even if I told you every last detail. It’s just horrible.”

“C, you know I would always support you. Obviously this is something huge. You have to get it off your chest, get it out in the open. You can’t deal with this on your own.”

“But I just can’t…. it’s soooo disgusting.”

“You have to tell me. You’re miserable like this!”

“Well, ok… maybe a little. A, I think, well, I have this stuff that smells and… and… it’s getting harder to cover up ever day.”

“Okay-”

“That feminine deodorizer doesn’t even put a dent in it. What am I going to do?
And other people must smell it! Oh god.”

“Get a hold of yourself, C. Have you seen a doctor?”

“No. I’m too embarrassed. I’m a freak!”

“Umm, well if you won’t see a doctor, maybe you can let me google your symptoms so we have an idea of what we’re dealing with. Okay?”

“I don’t know if I can tell you…. agh, I have to. Ok. (Big pause) Well, it’s all grey down there…”

“Uh huh, you’re doing a great job, C. Keep going-”

“It’s grey and splotchy in places.”

“What color are the splotches?”

“Dark purple.”

“Umm, ok, is there anything else?”

“There’s the smell.”

“Right. Going to google it. Hold on a sec.”

“A, there’s something else. (dramatic pause) It’s flaky too.”

As A googled the symptoms, J began to talk to her. Keep in mind that C had been keeping J abreast of the entire conversation until that point. A admitted to J (with C’s permission) she didn’t know what to do, and J proceeded to “help”
A talk to C about her flaky problem…

“I don’t think you should go to class like this, C. There’s nothing on the web that matches those symptoms. You really need to see a doctor. This could be serious. J thinks you should see a Doc right away.”

“I just can’t. I just can’t! Then I’d have to tell the doctor how I got it and who else might have it and … and and… I just can’t. What if it got out?”

“Get a grip!!!! Now, do you know where you got this?”

“Oh god, oh god. Well, you know how there are just some things you can’t repress? I mean, some of us have to deal with these urges, and they’re so wrong.”

“J and I won’t ever judge you, you know that. We want to help you. You can tell us.”

“Umm, well, err… I put something up there.”

“Up where?”

“Up there.”

“Oooh! Up there!”

“Right. And it just felt so good that I couldn’t stop.”

“So, what did you put up there?”

“I can’t. It’s so wrong.”

“Stop this. Tell us.”

“Oh god, I put…put an eggplant up there. (quickly) I didn’t mean to, and it’s something that I never dreamed of doing, but, oh god, I did and I can’t stop. A, what am I going to do?”

“Wow. I’m really not sure what to say.”

“It’s gotten so out of hand, A. I’m so embarrassed. You know you do something once, and it turns out that it really lights your fire. Then it bites you in the ass. It just bites you in the ass…. oh god. It’s just not fair. Why did this happen to me?? And I have class in 15 minutes. How can I go?? It smells horrible!”

“Ok. You’re not going to go to class like this. You can’t. You HAVE to see a doctor. Only a doctor can help you with the splotchy stuff, and then we can deal with the rest later. C, we’re going to get you help. Don’t you worry.”

“Thanks, AJ, that really means a lot.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to talk to J for a minute, and we’ll figure out how to help you in the meantime.”

“Thanks so much. You’re the best. Both of you.”

In very somber, serious, sensitive tete a tete, A and J decided they needed to know more. Which means exactly, that J convinced A she need to know more in order to “help” their friend C. Was C telling them the whole story? If she wouldn’t go to the doctor, was she in immediate danger? Was she putting others in danger? Was it… contagious?

“C, we need to know if you’ve told us everything. J thinks you’re not telling us the WHOLE truth because you’re too embarrassed, and we need to know for your own good. Is there anything more?”

“God, how did you know? It’s just so wrong. I mean, first, it was just me. And then I found these people on the internet who are JUST LIKE ME! We all dig the veggies (heh) and get off on them together. So, like, last week, we had an orgy. I don’t know how it started, but we were all together with these cabbages and turnips and cauliflowers and… oh, oh… don’t get me started on those lucious eggplants. I can’t go on…

“It’s ok, C. I’m here for you. J wants me to tell you that she’s here for you too.”

“Thanks, you’re the best of friends.”

“I have one more question, have you always been this way? I mean, did you always know you had a thing for vegetables?”

It was about this point that J and C lost their lunches. J burst into laughter, projectile liquids hit the wall and C broke it to A that it was a joke. A almost killed J on the spot and would have killed C if she had been in the same city. J’s lovely wife was sleeping the next room so the suppressed laughter continued long into the night. Needless to say, A bought every last word of the eggplant story, and J and C will never let A live it down.

If you haven’t guessed, I’m the character known as C. The names of the other characters have been thinly veiled in order to inadequately protect their privacy.

To both of you crazy coots whom I love dearly, can we brush each other’s hair the next time we’re all together? I really like brushing each other’s hair. I’ve always known I really like that… for as long as I can remember.