#RUreal?

Felix blow drying his pants

Felix is moving out. He’s going back to London to do whatever it is he did before moving to New York three months ago, so presumably stare at walls, make experimental noise music, and not wear pants. I guess I’m sad that @FelixFreak is leaving, because even though he’s sort of a non-personality clay person, he can be pretty entertaining and (non intentionally) funny when he’s super stoned/in a K-hole. Also I just really don’t feel like going through the annoying process of finding a replacement roommate. (#EveryoneIsHeinous)

“So like what did you do for Christmas?” I ask The Felix even though I don’t care.

“Just hung out with some friends–these two girls,” he says into his pillow. “They took me to some alternative church thing in midtown that lasted for like three hours, then we went home and all held hands in a circle. They’re like Wiccan or something. They’re into that shit.”

“Are these more of your internet friends?”

“Sort of.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It was OK. But then things got semi weird when we took some ecstasy and they both, like, pinned me down on the ground and had sex with me. I wasn’t really into it so it took me ages to get a boner. And then I couldn’t cum, and then they like kicked me out of their house or something.”

All of Felix’s friends are people he met on the internet. Like I’m talking straight-up chat-room monsters, most of whom are either witches, pretend artists, or soon to be on To Catch A Predator. Still, Felix seems continually surprised whenever one of these “friends” tries to fuck him, which happens roughly twice a week. At the beginning I felt a bit sorry for him, but now I’m just like #hello!, what did you expect from the two fat Omegle goths? Also, switching topic for a sec, is Felix gay or straight? Because he seems super fucking gay to me, but then recently he’s been spending a lot of time inside girls (#TimeToComeOutOfTheCloset) so now I’m all confused.

“So wait,” I say, hands on hips, “are you more into fucking girls or guys? Because if I knew you weren’t a homo I probably wouldn’t have gotten changed and/or picked my nose in front of you so many times.”

“Uh…” He’s thinking hard, possibly harder than he’s ever thought in his entire life. “I dislike both equally,” he says finally. “To be honest I rarely fuck people. It’s more like I just let them fuck me.”

“Oh my god whatever,” I say. (#IGiveUp) “More importantly, you have to stop letting people take advantage of you. For realsies, you’re too easily manipulated.”

“I just…” he says, shoulders slumped, “I just can’t say no. Or maybe I can, I don’t know. Saying no always seems like too much of a hassle. It’s easier to just lie there and wait for Whoever to finish doing whatever they’re doing.”

“You’re sexually weak.”

“No I’m not. It’s more that I’m… well… uggghhh yeah, I guess you’re right,” he moans, halfheartedly punching his hand with his other hand. “My problem is that I can never make a decision. It’s easier to be apathetic than to care. Like this morning, I spent half an hour holding my erection, trying to decide what to do with it.”

“And what was the conclusion?”

“I went soft.”

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