“Oh, I know,” he said. “Even though I wanted you to, you didn’t.”
“Then why’d you lock the door?”
“Because I’m going to use your toothbrush and I knew you’d probably freak out.”
I glared at the door. “Don’t you dare. That’s disgusting!”
“I’ve had my tongue in your mouth. Same diff.”
I blushed, even though he couldn’t see me. “I will break this fucking door down!” A six-year-old Girl Scout would have sounded more threatening than I did.
“See, I knew you’d freak out.” He started laughing. “Pink? Really? Your toothbrush is pink? Oh my God! Even your toothbrush is a homo!”
“My dentist gave that to me!” I shouted at him, as if that made it special.
“Toothpaste,” he muttered. “Where is the toothpaste?”
“Vince, I will punch your face off,” I warned him.
“Found the toothpaste. Oh, and I found the tampons too. Why is there one missing?”
Oh, crap. “I… uh.”
“Did you use one?”
“What? No! I just wanted to see what they looked like!”
“Dude. Paul. Gross.”
Then silence, for a moment.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“Opening a tampon. I want to see what they look like too.”
“Oh. This is the weirdest conversation of my life.”
“Why is there a string on it?” he asked, sounding baffled.
I waited.
“Wait… is that how they… pull it…? Oh, gross!”
“You better not have thrown it!”
“Sure did. Didn’t see where it went. That’s just wrong. Reason number 6,432 I’m glad I’m a dude.”
“That’s a lot of reasons.”
No answer.
“What are you doing?”
“Brushin’ ma teef,” he said as if he had a mouthful.
“You bastard,” I growled.
I heard him spit into the sink. “My teeth feel clean. And a whole lot gayer.”