My sister got the seven year itch,
from me. We have been roommates for seven years and she’s packing up her things
and taking the show on the road. Moving to Portland Maine. Someplace
unaccessable by subway.
It’s like a break up. I’m kinda
hoping I respond by hooking up with a bunch of guys.
My coping mechanisms have never
included extreme promiscuity which is unfortunate for me and the men in my
immediate line of vision.
The thing is, I cope with change
like a wild animal who spots its predator.
I freeze. I remain still and stoic.
The weird, nonreactive behavior is noticeable. People are like “are you Ok?” I stand like a physically catatonic stress victim “I’m fine” I
“You don’t seem like you”
I move my eyes so they know I am
I’ve never been much of a crier.
Ever. Even as a kid I never thought to cry about things
I feel like I was always one to
Like “oh I can’t have cake now well
how about I act slighty annoyed at that information but just wait til you try
to sleep through the night you stingy cake controlling parent you”
Sometimes my reaction is delayed,
“Kendra, why are you crying?”
“I can’t believe Boris broke up
“That was 5 years ago”
I know this is going to be one of
“Kendra, whats this box of stuff in
the middle of the living room?”
“Oh, that’s from my sister’s move”
“That move was like three years
I’m the Leslie Nielson of personal
I have been feeling very Naked
Gunnish lately. Somebody asked me to recommend a good date spot recently. The place
I suggested had been closed for two years. I’m not much for dating but I will
point out what is wrong with everybody else’s relationships. No problem.
I’m a ruthless relationship critic.
Is there any money in that?
Thanks for listening!
Kendra is a stand-up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns
a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell
her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.