Bitch? Please.

I have a brother.

I don’t know if you’ve been paying enough attention to know that.

Despite having the same mother, we were raised on the complete opposite ends of the parenting spectrum. Where I was raised in a strict and suffocating household, my brother was oft times ignored and then left to his own devices. Upon my arrival into this world, my brother was then treated as a irritating leftover from a previous life, and I was withheld from his aquaintance in the hopes that his juvenile delinquency wouldn’t rub off on me.

Many years later, after he was hospitalized for having a mental breakdown, my shy self felt it necessary to get to know the brother I remembered from my youth. We soon became fast friends, and I realized that we are truly related, as we both inherited the one good trait our mother possesses- empathy. We both of us at times worry about other people’s feelings more than our own, which sometimese results in our own misery.

Being the sister of a brother I did not know deeply from youth, the subjects of our conversations may not necessarily be the norm between siblings. This may be the reason I ended up knowing about my brother’s unbelievable decade-long dry spell.

My brother’s non-self-imposed celibacy had throughout the years been the butt of jokes between us, yet I was greatly relieved for him when he called a few months ago and revealed that he had once again lost his virginity. He rambled on about his newfound sex partner, and then proceeded to shock me with the information that he was, in fact, not in a relationship, but had gained a fuck buddy.

Let me be clear- I condone all forms of sex (that do not include animals), and so a fuck buddy relationship is not what is shocking. The fact that it is my brother, who has the somewhat-womanly mentality that sex actually means something, who is having a fuck buddy is what’s shocking. Upon receiving more information, I found that his “buddy” is in love with her baby daddy, and from the sounds of it, likes to use my brother to buy her alcohol and to babysit her kid. My brother assured me that he was fine with the situation, but after receiving many phone calls from a deeply sensitive brother who is upset because of his feelings for a certain someone, I find myself to be unbelieving about his assurances.

I was willing to give his “buddy” the benefit of the doubt in the beginning- perhaps she was just lonely; perhaps she realizes my brother is a good guy and wants more to do with him; perhaps she will someday forget about her baby daddy and live happily ever after with my brother. Perhaps.

I went to visit my brother this last week, and after spending the day with him and hearing all about how terribly this woman makes him feel, I was intent on never meeting her. From what he told me, she needs a shrink and a beating. I found that I am more than willing to be the one to administer said beating. Imagine my irritation when the bitch calls my brother when I’m visiting, and insists on coming over to meet “the wonderful sister he talks so much about.” I could not contain my inner groan when my brother informed me his bitch was on her way over.

I rolled my eyes and told the truth. “Look. I wanted to meet her because you like her for whatever fucking reason. Sadly, after hearing you say ONLY negative things about her all the day, I must tell you that I no longer have that desire, and so I must depart before this devil woman arrives.” My brother, while maybe disappointed, understood where I was coming from, and so walked me out to my yellow truck. Sadly, I was unable to make a clean getaway, and the bitch wandered out of her building and sauntered over to meet me.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you! Oh! You’re so pretty! I can’t believe how pretty you are!” She gushed and continued. “Your brother’s a good man. He’s a really good man and my son loves him.” I agreed whole-heartedly that indeed my brother is a good man, yet in my head I was wondering why on earth any woman would introduce her child to a fuck buddy. Like kids don’t have enough going on to confuse them. I civilly accepted her hug, and automatically returned it (because I cannot NOT give a hug) and then gracefully waved a non-friendly goodbye.

A few hours later, my brother called to confirm that I returned home safely, and corroborated that I am not the stellar actress that I thought I was. He said to me, “Yeah, as soon as you left, she asked, ‘She hates me, doesn’t she?'”

For the record, my histrionic personality makes it impossoble for me to completely hate her, because she said I was pretty. But the healthy side of me does indeed loath her.