I love my little to death. I sound like every proud big everywhere when I say she is perfect in every way, but to me she is. We had non-verbal communication down to a science within just a few days of her moving in with me. She is the first roommate I haven’t absolutely despised, and if she doesn’t move in with me next fall I hope she knows there will be hell to pay. If you read my post Things I Don’t Tell My Little Often Enough you know we don’t have the typical Big/Little relationship.
When I first met my Little I tried harder than I should have to make her believe I was the perfect Big. I went weeks without partying with my Little for fear that she would discover her Big wasn’t the role model she had been looking for. Thank you Little One for showing me I was wrong. Our first bonding experience happened the night we found out we had shared a guy. No one kisses better or gets around more than a good drunken fuckboy and no one enjoys a good fuckboy more than our family tree. We aren’t the kind of women who are looking for relationships, we are looking for a good time.
Over the course of a semester I have shared more than one guy with my Little, however one fuckboy in particular stands out among the rest. A frat boy for the common man and a bartender in our college town. Country boy meets country town. The man who never puts out. Need someone to watch your drink while you go to the bathroom? He won’t spike your drink but you better be prepared to make out on the dance floor when you return. Need someone to vouch for your ID at the door? He’s seen it so many times he has it memorized. Want to make out with him more than once? Go find another bother because it’s not going to happen again once he’s signed his name on the windshield of your car.
My family tree shares the personality trait of being friends with mostly guys, however I am the only one who routinely hangs out with non-affiliate men. As a result my reputation among men of affiliation is often nonexistent or off my radar. My Little on the other hand loves nothing more than to spend her Thursday-Saturday nights in the basement of a frat house and as a result has saved my ass and the remaining pieces of my dignity more than once. What is the difference between the Frat Boy Fuckboy and the Mainstream Fuckboy? The Frat Boy Fuckboy will run his mouth to every other Frat Boy Fuckboy he come in contact that night.
As a result of the Frat Boy Fuckboy running his mouth, three weeks after making out with our favorite bartender in the basement of our least favorite bar I had developed a reputation as the clingy girl in town. A rumor that was quickly cleared up after a night of tossing bottles in the basement of a frat house and teasing some brothers, but a reputation none the less. As a result my family tree now heavily vets our fuckboys before allowing them into our lives. We will know the names of the last five women you have made out with, we will know if that girl you took home last weekend was actually as good/bad in bed as you said she was, and we will form an opinion on the girlfriend you told us you didn’t have. So go ahead, continue to fuck with our family tree. We have learned how to fuck with you in return.